MISCELLANEOUS.
Daffy-down-dilly.—The pronunciation of surnames is often so arbitrary and contrary to ordinary rules that, excepting in well-known names, such as Cholmondeley (pronounced Chumley), Leveson-Gower (pronounced Luson-Gore), Marjoribanks (Marchbanks), and others, you should obtain your information from one of the family. In the case of the name "Haworth," we should be disposed to pronounce it as in Ha-therton, certainly not "Horth." We know little about the town of that name in the W. R. of Yorkshire. It has a population of about 3820. Charlotte Brontë's father was rector of the parish, and she married his curate, and died in March 1855.
Lover of the "G.O.P." (Northampton).—The story called "Robina Crusoe," which appeared in serial form, can only be had in our magazine. It has not been re-published apart from it. If you write to our publisher (56, Paternoster Row, E.C.) and request him to send you the numbers that contain it, naming the year in which it appeared, and enclose the money due for them, he will send them to you. Should you send the exact days, he would supply the weekly numbers, instead of the monthly ones, which would cost you much less.
Tibbie.—If accompanied by your sisters (or one at least) you need feel no scruple in accepting the rector's Sunday hospitality, as you are helping his services by playing the organ.
Pompey inquires whether the modern Romans wear the same picturesque flowing robes at the present day that were worn at the time of Christ? There is no difference between their dress and that of the rest of Europe. As to the history of Rome and its ancient buildings and churches, there is a new book called Mediæval and Ecclesiastical Rome, published by Black. The first volume might add something to the information you say you have obtained in The Story of the Nations series, The Last Days of Pompeii, and a few others—which you do not specify. The book we name is reputed to be an excellent, and very exhaustive guide-book, and the best yet written.
Joice M.—We recommend you to get a little book on Leather Work, by Rosa Baughan (Gill: 17, Strand, W.C.). This will give you all the direction you can require.
Janie.—The term "Black Letter," as used in reference to printing, only means what we call "Old English" type, which is often used on visiting cards. But old books, such as that interesting historical chronicle of current events, by Stowe, is all printed in that type, and in the spelling of that century. It is known elsewhere as the "Flemish, or German type." Ancient illuminated missals, such as those exhibited in the British Museum, are in "Black Letter," and most beautifully written by pen in this style of lettering.
Lily.—Nothing is known of Jannes and Jambres, named by St. Paul in 2 Timothy iii. 8, beyond the fact that they existed, and withstood Moses before Pharaoh—statements of divine authority. But, according to very ancient tradition, they were two sons of the rebel, Balaam—who died fighting against Israel—and, furthermore, that no real miracle was wrought by them, but that they practised mere jugglery. The name "Jerusalem," means "the City of Peace," though its history shows the name very inapplicable. It was the site of the stronghold Jebus, taken from the native tribe, and made that of the Israelitish capital. The ancient name was revived by David, for a cuneiform tablet found at Tel-el-Amarna (in 1890), written centuries before the Hebrew conquest, appears to refer to that place under the form of Urusalem. Our authority is that of Robert Anderson, whose interesting work on Extinct Civilisation is worth your study.
Amy.—You seem to have overlooked our many advertisements of the Asile des Billodes, C. de Neuchâtel. If you look through old numbers of the "G.O.P.," you will find them in the answers to correspondents. Some of our earliest writers for this magazine have been taking out stamps for the institution for many years past, every year, in large quantities.
Georgie.—The colour of the Red Sea is due to a thin brick-dust layer of infusoria, which is slightly tinged with an orange hue. The water placed in a white glass bottle is changed to a deep violet, but the surface of the sea shows a brilliant rose colour.
C. M. C.—It is the duty of the clergyman to call on all his parishioners, but this is almost impossible in extensive, closely populated parishes. Of course, if attending the services of a church not in his parish, he can know nothing about you. Should you desire work under him, you only have to call at the vestry and offer your services, telling him that you attend his church.
Mimosa.—You could not call on your intended husband, unless with your mother as a chaperon, as you say he has no lady relative living with him.
Narcissus.—The plural of the name you have adopted is "Narcissi."
Day-boots.—1. A cane is only an adjunct to the military uniform. A man when well dressed in civilian style always carries a stick or an umbrella, and the latter would be quite unsuited for military dress—and most men would look awkward had they no use for either hand.—2. In striking a light you produce combustion, which makes a noise.
[THINGS IN SEASON, IN MARKET, AND KITCHEN.]
NOVEMBER.
November is one of our months of plenty, and a walk round the great wholesale provision markets gives us a very bright picture. However gloomy the weather may be outside, there is "good cheer" abounding here. We have game and poultry in abundance and just in their prime; the bag that sportsmen take delight in filling is here emptied for the benefit of those who rarely or never breathe the air of the moors where the birds flourished so happily. Rabbits and hares, once so fleet of foot, hang limply from every available hook, and even the barn-door fowl is a finer specimen than earlier in the season, while geese, turkeys, and Surrey capons tempt their purchase, whether we intended it or not.
Freshwater fish appear among their sea-born brethren, and help in giving us variety. Of fruits and nuts we have large choice, and the ripe grains and pulse foods are all garnered, while most of the root vegetables are ready too. Of a truth at this time of the year there is no lack of food stuffs.
Neither is there any lack of other material wherewith to make our tables gay. Dahlias and chrysanthemums, rich foliage, hedgerow gleanings and late grasses, these will stay with us until close upon Christmas, if we take the precaution of sheltering our plants from frost, and of drying our leaves, giving a touch of gum to either flower or leaf, when we see one that is inclined to fall.
None who are able to cultivate a flowering plant, or to take a walk on to a piece of waste land or in a lane, need ever plead excuse for an ungarnished table, and much pleasure is missed by those who think the table can do as well without garnishing as with it, providing there be plenty of good food upon it. We are not of their opinion. "A table well-set is half spread." Care in pleasing the eye will do a vast deal towards aiding good digestion.
Let us look more particularly at what we might call the distinctive features of the month's provisions. Pike and tench among the freshwater fish, before mentioned; oysters, skate, and gurnet among the ordinary. Grouse, snipe, teal, pheasants, hares, and rabbits, also venison amongst game; while geese and turkeys are rapidly advancing in size and quality.
Celery is fast getting to perfection, Scotch kale is fine, so are savoys and salsify.
Chestnuts, filberts, walnuts, figs, and grapes, in addition to the grand autumn wealth of pears, apples, quinces, and golden oranges, not to mention the preserved fruits which are just beginning to be shown in the windows.
What we will call our characteristic menu of the month ought, then, to be an easy one to compile. We give an alternative one for those who may find themselves unable to provide the first-named.