When vegetables are preserved in vinegar, they form pickles. When sugar is the preserving medium, they are variously named according to the mode of preparation. Fruits, flowers, herbs, roots, and juices, boiled with sugar or syrup, and employed in pharmacy, as well as for sweetmeats, are called confections (Latin, conficere, to make up). Liquid confects consist of fruits, either whole or in pieces, preserved by immersion in fluid transparent syrup: apricots, green citrons, and some foreign fruits, are treated in this way. Dry confects are prepared by boiling in syrup those parts of vegetables adapted to this method, such as citron and orange-peel, &c.; they are then taken out and dried in an oven. Marmalades, jams, and pastes are soft compounds made of the pulp of fruits, or other vegetable substances, beaten up with sugar or honey; oranges, apricots, pears, &c., are treated in this way. Jellies are the juices of fruits—currants, gooseberries, apples, &c.—boiled with sugar to such a consistence as, on cooling, to form a trembling jelly. Conserves are dry confects, made by beating up flowers, fruits, &c. with sugar not dissolved. Candies are fruits candied over with sugar, after having been boiled in the syrup.
The best syrup for preserving fruits is made by dissolving two parts of double-refined sugar in one part of water, boiling a little, skimming, and filtering through a cloth. This gives a good smooth syrup, which does not readily ferment nor crystallize.
The specimens of preserved food in the Great Exhibition were exceedingly numerous; they included animal and vegetable productions, fruits, &c. One interesting specimen was a canister containing boiled mutton, prepared by the exhibitor, Mr. Gamble, for the Arctic Expedition in 1824. A large number of these canisters were landed from the ship Fury, on the beach where the ship was wrecked in Prince Regent's Inlet, and were found by Captain Sir John Ross in August, 1833, in a state of perfect preservation, although annually exposed to a temperature of 92° below, and 80° above zero. Had it not been for the large store of provisions left by Parry near the spot where the Fury was wrecked, Ross's expedition must have perished.
THE PEDESTRIAN TOUR.
BY PAULINE FORSYTH.
BETWEEN the projecting a scheme in the mind and its actual accomplishing, the difference is as great as that between the appearance of some Eastern city seen from a distance in the moonlight, with its picturesque domes and minarets silvered by the rays that throw over the darkest spots an unreal glamour of purity and brightness, and the same place viewed in the broad daylight, while standing in the midst of its narrow and dirty streets. It is as if we had devised some airy palace, beautiful and complete in its smallest details, and found ourselves, when going about to build it, with no materials ready but a little clay and a few stones and sticks, and those of the most crooked and unpliable materials. Few persons realize, before they are twenty-five, the resolutely prosaic actualities of the world as it is. Almost every one in his early youth is fully persuaded that he is about to perform an important part in some deeply interesting drama, and it is a hard lesson that disenchants him, and shows that he has been acting the part of Don Quixote with the world for Sancho Panzo.
Frederic Lanier was a young man of nineteen. His early life had been passed in the country; but when he was fifteen he had been sent to New York to complete his education, and to reside in the mean time with his uncle, Mr. Lawrence. The very day after his arrival in the city had been marked by an important event. He had seen Adelaide Marshall, and had fallen in love with her. This love had accompanied him during the one year he had spent at the High School, and his three succeeding ones at the college. The lady was six years older than himself, but that was an additional attraction. Her stately and graceful movements, her majestic presence, and the calm and regular beauty of her face, never lost their charm to him. He was too much in love to observe that in the light of her blue eyes there was no warmth, but a cold and critical scrutiny, and that her mouth closed with a severe and slightly satirical expression. She was to him a perfect Helen.
About soon to be elevated to the rank of a Senior, he had begun to think himself in a position to show his passion more openly than he had hitherto ventured to do. He little suspected that the lofty Adelaide had divined his feelings from the first, and had received his timid attentions with sensations of gratified pride and amusement that, unmingled with any softer feeling, promised little for the success of his suit. The lady, accustomed to admiration, considered all homage as her due; and, looking on Frederick Lanier as a mere boy, she talked to him familiarly when she so inclined, and made use of him in a gracious and royal manner without the slightest tender consideration for his feelings, or fear of the consequences. She had known many men and boys to fall in love with her, and, when they had found out that she did not and would not reciprocate their affection, the worst that had ever happened was that they had married somebody else; and this she calmly contemplated as the probable termination of Frederick Lanier's passion, while he was internally vowing a lifelong devotion to the lady of his heart.
He had discovered that she was to pass two or three weeks at the White Mountains during the month of July. He decided to arrange his summer wanderings so as to be there at the same time. Meantime, a vague desire to be alone, to feed on his own thoughts free from the importunate interruptions of even the members of his own family, induced him to follow the example of several of his college companions, and undertake a pedestrian tour.