THE LARDER.

THE

ENGLISH HOUSEKEEPER:

OR,

MANUAL OF DOMESTIC MANAGEMENT:

CONTAINING

ADVICE ON THE CONDUCT OF HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS, AND

Practical Instructions

CONCERNING

THE WHOLE BEING INTENDED

FOR THE USE OF YOUNG LADIES WHO UNDERTAKE THE
SUPERINTENDENCE OF THEIR OWN HOUSEKEEPING.

SIXTH EDITION.

(IMPROVED BY THE INTRODUCTION OF MANY NEW RECEIPTS.)

BY ANNE COBBETT.

LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY A. COBBETT, 137, STRAND.

1851.

[Price Six Shillings.]

LONDON:
GEO. PEIRCE, PRINTER, 310, STRAND.

INTRODUCTION.

"She looketh well to the ways of her Household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed: her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all."—Proverbs, Chap. xxxi., vs. 27, 28, & 29.

I have taken so much pains to make the following work deserving of the title it bears, that I could not, without affectation, pretend to undervalue my own performance, by anticipating doubts of its utility, or by expressing any fear lest my friends should be disappointed when they look into it. Every publication of this description is necessarily calculated to be of some essential service; for it must not only be practical in its descriptions and directions, but must relate to matters touching the daily and hourly wants of all mankind; and it will, of course, be approved according as it may happen to meet those wants.

As a mere Cookery-book, mine must submit to be placed in a lower rank than some others, because I do not profess to bring to light discoveries in the culinary art, neither do I design to favour epicurism. I have no pretension beyond that of advising young ladies who are their own housekeepers; and the receipts which will be found in my selection, are such as appeared to me suitable to any family of moderate style in living, and such as may be easily comprehended and put in practice. These have been carefully revised and amended in the present edition, and some others added.

While I am offering advice with respect to the manner of conducting domestic affairs, I cannot refrain from expressing my regret that so large a proportion of the young ladies of England are sadly deficient in that information, and in those practices of economy which are the most essentially necessary to their welfare as persons of influence and authority in a house. I am by no means singular in lamenting that the advantages of a knowledge of housekeeping seem to be so entirely lost sight of by those who have the responsibility of bringing up either their own or other people's daughters; and I find it frequently the subject of remark that the ladies of the present day have become incapable of being so skilful in the discharge of their domestic duties as the ladies of a former period were, in proportion as they have become more cultivated and more accomplished. But is it so? Are there now a greater proportion of women whose minds are really cultivated than there were formerly? Is there not rather a greater pretence of learning with less of it in reality? It is erroneous to suppose that persons of real learning look upon the minor duties of life with contempt, because of their learning; for, though learning does not, perhaps, give sense, it surely does not destroy it, and there is not only a want of sense, but a positive folly, in that affectation of refinement, and that assumption of superiority, which has led to the result now complained of. But the system of education which has prevailed of late years is certainly in fault; a system which assigns the same species of learning, indiscriminately, to young persons of every rank and degree, without distinction even as to ability. Such a method of bringing up has unavoidably been productive of very injurious effects; for, while it withdraws the daughters of farmers and tradespeople, and others, during a great part of their youth, from the practice of those homely arts which belong to their stations, it leaves them, in nine cases out of ten, without anything more than the mere fancy that they possess acquirements of a higher order.

The desire which many persons feel to give their children a better education than has been bestowed upon themselves is laudable, because it proceeds from sincere affection: but how often is the success equal to the motive which actuates? How often is the manner of attempting at all calculated for attaining the object so earnestly sought? An ambition to promote the welfare of children reconciles parents to part with them at that tender age when they ought to command more constant care than they generally need at a more advanced time of life; and this ambition is so strong that it will even cause little girls to be consigned to the blighting atmosphere of a crowded schoolroom, there to bewail the loss of the warm hearth, or the airy room of their own homes, and all the comforts which depend upon a mother's solicitude. With a view to their being educated, that is to say, fitted for the world, and for the discharge of their respective duties in it, girls are sent to school, and are there condemned to a dull course of lessons, before their minds have sufficient strength to imbibe any kind of learning that requires mental labour, and before their understandings are equal to any greater exertion than that of perceiving the difference between a roasted apple and a sugar-plum.

A knowledge of housekeeping is not difficult to attain. It needs no natural superiority of talent, and no painful application. It is rather a habit than a science, and, like the neatness so characteristic of English women, this knowledge rarely comes to perfection at all, unless it be partly formed in early life, and by means of our very earliest associations. Little girls are always prone to imitate the ways of older persons, particularly in housekeeping matters. They very soon begin to find amusement in learning to make preserves, pastry, and such things. Those children, therefore, who are brought up at home, and have the daily and hourly practice of domestic duties before their eyes, will naturally fall into habits of usefulness, and acquire, by degrees and imperceptibly, a knowledge of what belongs to home, which should constitute the elementary education of every woman who is not born to rank and to luxury. But the unhappy little creatures who drag through seven or more years of continuous monotony within the walls of a school, their minds taking little or no part in the tasks which their memories are racked upon, have but little chance of learning any thing which will benefit their after lives; for, those whose mothers knead the bread, churn the butter, and help to cook the dinner, have not the benefit of that sort of society that would teach them to apply their learning, that would call forth their acquirements, or that would be able to appreciate those acquirements when displayed. During the period which these children spend at school, their mother continues her old-fashioned occupations, and, as time passes on, she looks forward, perhaps, with cheering anticipations to the help which her daughters are to afford her. But alas! how often do these daughters return from school with false notions of the lives they are to lead, and with mistaken ideas of their own consequence, such as lead them to despise the humble occupations of their home, although their "education" may not have given them one single idea to justify any pretension of the kind. It is generally acknowledged, that girls educated at schools are seldom far advanced in learning. Where history and geography, and other sciences, are learnt by rote, "a page of Greece on Monday," a "page of Rome on Tuesday," a "page of Universal Biography on Wednesday," with occasional readings of the middle ages, of modern times, and application being made to maps, globes, charts, &c., to fill up the time which is not devoted to the fine arts (for it all goes on at once), the stock of real solid information which is gained by the end of the year, will be very scanty, or will probably have resolved itself into such a confused mass of imperfect information that all practical benefit may be despaired of. No wonder, if, after having undergone a course like this, a young girl is often found to have gained less from books than others have gained from vulgar report, and be puzzled to say whether it was Scipio or Washington who was the first President of the United States of America. They learn lessons, but they do not reason or think about what they are getting by heart; and many girls, whose education has cost a large sum of money, are unable to answer a question of name, place, or date, in their geography or history, without first running over a certain portion of one whole lesson, the sound of which has left a deeper impression on the ear, than its sense has left on the understanding. Just as, when wanting to ascertain the number of days in a particular month, we repeat the words, "Thirty days hath September," &c., thus recalling by means of the jingle of words, what of itself had slipped our memories.

Girls so educated are very much to be commiserated. They live, through that part of their lives in which the mind is most open to receive impressions, without any opportunity for exercising their powers of observation, till, at last, those powers fall into a state of inertness; and their education is finished without their having gained the least knowledge of what the world really is, or of the part which they are to be called upon to act in it. Having had no intimate association with persons really well informed, it is no matter of surprise, if they become conceited of their supposed attainments, or if they remain in ignorance of the fact, that a little music, a little drawing, and a very little French and Italian, are not sufficient to make an accomplished woman, and that merely going the round of primers will not, of itself, constitute what is looked for in a "good education." Nor is it, indeed, to be wondered at, if the home, which has been so cherished in recollection from one holiday time to another, fail to realise all the anticipations of pleasure and of happiness which the thought of it has excited. Its simple occupations are not of a kind to make them, as novelties, attractive to one who is only a fine lady; the want of capacity to fill domestic duties will, of course, render them rather disagreeable than otherwise; and it is but natural that young women who, during all the early part of their lives, have been unaccustomed to think of household cares, should entertain some degree of aversion to them, and feel dissatisfied when called upon to take a part in them. Many a father has repented that he did not rather lay up for his daughter, the money which has been expended to no better purpose than to cause her to repine at the condition in life in which he must leave her. And many a mother's pride, in the fancied superiority of her daughter, has been saddened by the recollection, not only that her daughter was incapable of helping her, but that the time must come when that incompetent daughter would be left to take care of herself.

My readers may imagine that I forget my proper theme: they may wish me to remember that this book professes only to aid those young ladies who are uninformed on this subject, how to keep house, and that I am diverging from that subject, and raising objections to a very common way of bringing up children. But when it is generally acknowledged that there is, in the ladies of the present day, a great want of skill as regards the affairs of their household, an ignorance, in fact, of some of their first duties, it cannot be impertinent for me to inquire, whether this want of skill, and this ignorance, be not properly ascribable to a defective, or even to a mischievous, course of education. I certainly do think that habits of usefulness, and the cultivation of talents, may be combined, but then the acquiring of the useful, and the cultivating of the finer accomplishments must proceed hand in hand. There are, doubtless, many who do not think it beneath them to be able to make a pudding, merely because they can execute a difficult piece of music, or sing with good taste; who do not regard these as things absolutely incongruous; and who do not consider, when they receive applause for excelling in fashionable powers to charm, that the offering carries with it an excuse for their being inefficient and helpless mistresses of families. There are, however, not a few, who do think that qualifications of a refined nature render it unbecoming in their possessors to give that personal superintendence to the affairs of the kitchen, of the store-room, and of all the other branches of household arrangement, which is so necessary, that, for the want of it, moderate fortunes often prove inadequate to the support of families in the middle rank. Young persons cannot be expected to entertain a proper estimation of the value of useful habits, as compared with the value of ornamental acquirements, unless they have grown up in the exercise of those habits. The idea that capability in the domestic, is incompatible with taste in the elegant accomplishments, is so deeply rooted in the minds of most persons who aspire to be fashionable, that I despair of the power to do much towards eradicating the fatal error. And yet, I would fain represent to parents, the wrong which is done to children by suffering this idea to plant itself in their minds; for it not only reduces young women to a standard of comparatively little consequence, by making them helpless in all the ordinary business of life, but it produces incidentally, a variety of injurious effects on the health, on the spirits, and even on the temper. It is proverbial, that the largest portion of happiness belongs not to the higher ranks of society; and the reason is, not that the rich and luxurious are, as a matter of course, unworthy and consequently unhappy; but that their minds are not diverted by necessary cares, that their amusements are easily obtained, and that the enjoyment of them is never interrupted by their having duties to perform. Pleasures fail to excite and interest the mind, unless they come in the way of relaxation. Therefore it is, that even in youth, something by way of employment is necessary to keep gaiety from subsiding into dulness; and in mature life nothing is more salutary than occupation. To have something to do, to be obliged to be doing, withdraws the mind from the contemplation of fancied sorrows, and prevents its being subdued by the recurrence of unavailing regrets. Women who have been accustomed, in their youth, to be industriously engaged and to contribute to the daily happiness of others, are sure to enjoy the greatest share of tranquillity and satisfaction in a review of days gone by, to show the most courage in adversity, the most patience in sickness, and to be the most cheerful and resigned under the infirmities of age; and those parents, therefore, who instil into the minds of their daughters the principle of making themselves useful, will confer upon them one of the greatest of blessings.

Let it not be supposed, however, that by useful, I mean that a woman should be a mere household drudge, that all her ideas should be confined within the limits of her domestic offices, or that her guests as well as her family, should be entertained by nothing better than details of the household. Ladies who have houses and servants to look after, should be capable of superintending the whole in a manner so systematic, as that they may have a due portion of their time, and of their thoughts, to give to other, and, if they deem them such, higher matters. I by no means recommend, as patterns, the fussy people, who are always busy and have never done, who let you know every thing that they have to do, and who, sometimes, do very little after all. Neither is it advisable to imitate, too closely, that class of housewives who are distinguished by the phrase—"very particular:" for even the virtue of neatness, when incessantly exercised, or manifested too much in matters of little moment, becomes an intruder upon comfort, and, consequently, offensive. What I recommend is, that quiet and orderly method of conducting the business of a house, which tends rather to conceal than to make an appearance of much to do, which puts all that part of the family, who are not immediately engaged in it, as little as possible out of the way, and which may enable strangers to remain under the roof without being constantly reminded of the trouble they occasion. Every woman who presides over a home, and who wishes to preserve its attraction, should bear in mind the many minute cares which all contribute to give to that home, not only the semblance, but the substance of enjoyment; and I earnestly impress upon my youthful readers the important fact, that, as far as mere fortune is concerned, those often prove to be the most poor in reality, who may have been thought to be the most rich. Competence and ease may be changed for narrowed circumstances, and a struggle may ensue, to stem a torrent of difficulties which follow in succession, and threaten to destroy the home which has been hitherto considered secure. Then she who has passed her life in total listlessness, possessing no acquirements but of a showy kind, and ignorant of what is wanted to preserve the foundation of a family's happiness; then such a woman will prove as unfitted to lighten sorrow, as she has been careless to avert it: for herself, she can but quail as difficulties assail her; for others, she can only seek for protection where, if she were capable, she might be of assistance; and, instead of aiding to alleviate distress, she will become the main cause of rendering the common burden intolerable.

How often do we see families stricken to the very dust, by the first, and perhaps only a slight blow, of misfortune; and this, merely for the want of a little of that practical knowledge, and that experience, which would have enabled them to husband their diminished means so that they might still supply sufficient to meet all real wants, and still procure every material comfort. From a want of this experience, some of the very best intentioned persons will so misapply the resources left to them, at one time laying out money where they ought to refrain altogether, and at another parting with more than the occasion requires, that, by degrees, those resources dwindle away to nothing before they seem to be aware of the natural consequences, and not only poverty, but destitution and misery are let into an abode where comparative ease and contentment might still have remained. The great art of economy in domestic life, is comprised in the two very homely phrases, "to turn every thing to account," and "to make the most of what you have." But their meaning is often perverted, and the habit of turning every thing to an account, and of making the most of every thing, is ascribed to those who are actuated, not by a laudable desire to produce as much comfort as their circumstances will admit, but by an inclination to indulge in a strong propensity to stinginess. But of this class of persons I am far from being the advocate; between extravagance and parsimony the widest possible interval exists; and that economy, that management and application of means, which I deem perfectly consistent with the most rigid virtue and the most generous impulse, is of too admirable a character to partake either of the spendthrift's criminality or of the miser's meanness.

If my censures upon the present system of educating young ladies should appear to be presumptuous, I greatly fear that any disapproval of that which is now so universally adopted with regard to the poor will be still more unpopular; but it does appear to me that there, there exists a mistake also, which, perhaps, in its consequences, will prove still more fatal. It appears to me that something better might be done, more advantageous to both rich and poor, by educating the latter to be useful members of society; and I think that ladies who live in the country may have ample opportunities of training up good servants, by attending to the education of poor neighbours of their own sex. By education, I do not mean that kind of teaching which merely qualifies them for reading letters and words. Small literary accomplishments, accompanied by idle habits, are already but too common, though the fact is more generally known than acknowledged. Nor do I mean that sort of education which creates expectations of gaining a livelihood by any other means than those of honest industry; or which tends to raise the ideas of persons who are born to work above the duties which fortune has assigned to them. I mean such an education as shall better their condition, by making them better servants. In large establishments, where there are old and experienced persons in service, it is very much the custom to have younger ones as helpers, and thus the latter have the benefit of learning all the duties of the household; but these establishments are comparatively few in number. The fashion of the day is opposed to my opinion, and the same ladies who now condescend to teach poor children to read and write, because it is the fashion to do so, would, in many cases, think it beneath them to teach a little girl to make a pudding. It would, in a work of this nature, be a hopeless and presumptuous attempt, to argue against the all-powerful influence of fashion, against which the keenest shafts of invective and ridicule, and in short every weapon of satire, have been so often aimed in vain; but, all are not under the dominion of so senseless and so capricious a tyranny, and I have to regret my inability to set before my readers the benefits which mistresses of families would confer and receive, from bringing up young country girls to be good servants. There might always, in a country-house, be one or more young girls, according to the size of the establishment; to be placed under older servants, or be instructed by the mistress herself, in all household occupations, from the hardest work and most simple offices, to the more delicate arts of housekeeping, including needle-work. This practice would not only insure more good servants than there now are; but, young girls so trained would, by the force of hourly tuition and good example, imbibe a right sense of duty, and acquire good habits, before they could have had time to become vicious or unmanageable.

When ladies take the trouble to teach the poor to read and write, they mean well, no doubt, and think they are doing the best they can for their pupils. But teaching industry is more to the purpose; for when learning has been found insufficient to preserve the morals of princes, nobles, and gentry, how can it be supposed that it will preserve those of their dependents? The supposition is, in fact, injurious to the cause of true learning, since the system founded upon it has been attended by no moral improvement. Our well-being is best secured by an early habit of earning our bread by honest labour; and

"Not to know at large of things remote

From use, obscure, and subtle, but to know

That which before us lies in daily life,

Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume.

Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,

And renders us in things that most concern,

Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek."

A country girl, the daughter of a labourer, would, by making herself in some way practically useful to society, and gaining a respectable livelihood, be more profitably employed than in going through that long course of literary exercise which has, of late, been so generally bestowed on the children of poor people, but which, I fear, has not generally imparted to them much of what Milton styles "the prime wisdom." It should also be considered, that the literary education of the poor, such as it is, cannot be much more than half completed at the age when the children cease to receive lessons from their charitable instructors. They are taught to read, to write a little, and perhaps something of the elements of arithmetic. The reading, however, is the principal attainment; and in this, they generally become well enough schooled before they are eleven, or, at most, twelve years of age. But alas! have they at that age, or at the age of thirteen or fourteen, been taught all that is necessary for girls so young to learn, with regard to the choice of books? With the use of letters, indeed, as the mere components of words, they have been made acquainted. But why have they been taught to read at all, unless there be some profit to be derived from their reading; and how can any profit be looked for from that reading, unless there be the same kind of pains taken to point out the proper objects of study as there have been to teach the little scholars to spell? Surely that advice which is required by all young persons in the pursuit of book-learning, is at least as necessary to those who can do no more than just read their own native language, as it is to those who are brought up in a superior way. The education of youth, among the higher and middle classes, does not terminate, or, at least, it never should, immediately on their leaving school. At that period, a fresh series of anxieties occur to the parent or the guardian, who is quite as sedulous as before, to finish that which has been, in fact, only begun at school. If this be not the case, how is it, that though the son may have been eight or ten years at the best schools, the father, after the schooling is ended, finds it necessary to consult the most discreet and experienced advisers, concerning the right guidance of his child in the course of his future studies? The attention paid to the studies of young ladies, after they come from school, is, to be sure, not precisely the same as that which parents think requisite for their sons. But, while the daughter has generally the advantage of being with her mother, or with some female relative much older than herself; and while the success in life of our sex does not so frequently depend upon literary acquirements, and the proper employment of them; yet under such circumstances, favourable as they are, we all know that there is still much wanting, both in the way of counsel and attractive example, from the parent or guardian, to render the learning which a young girl has acquired at school, of substantial service to her in after years. If the daughters of the rich require to be taught, not merely to read, but, also, what to read, why should not this be the case with the daughters of the poor? in whose fate, it is too often proved, that "a little learning is a dangerous thing," owing to the want of that discretion which is necessary to prevent the little learning becoming worthless, and even mischievous, to its possessor.

In the way of practical education, there are many things of importance to the poor, which ought to be taught them in early youth. At the age of fifteen or sixteen, a girl should already have learned many of the duties of a servant; for if her education up to that age have been neglected, she must necessarily, for the next three or four years of her life, be comparatively useless and little worthy of trust. The poor do not, as some may suppose, inhale with the air they breathe any of that knowledge which is necessary to make them useful in the houses of their parents or their employers. To learn cookery, in its various branches; making bread; milking, butter-making, and all the many things that belong to a dairy; household offices innumerable; besides the nice art of getting up fine linen, and plain work with the needle; not only requires considerable time, but, also, unless the learner be uncommonly quick and willing, great attention on the part of the person who undertakes to teach them. It is lamentable to see how deficient many female servants are in some things, the knowledge of which ought to be thought indispensable. Some are so ignorant of plain needle-work as to be incapable of making themselves a gown; and this, too, where they happen to be what the country-people call "scholars," from their ability to read a little, and to make an awkward use of the pen. A maid-servant who can assist her mistress in plain needle-work, is a really valuable person. Strange as it may seem, however, there are but few common servants who can do so, notwithstanding that superiority in learning by which the present generation of the labouring people are said to be distinguished from their predecessors.

With young servants, nothing has a better effect than encouragement. If they are, by nature, only good tempered, and blest with as much right principle as those who have not been spoiled generally possess, whatever you say or do in the way of encouraging them, can hardly fail to produce some good, though it may not always accomplish everything that you would desire. A cheerful tone in giving directions, a manner of address which conveys the idea of confidence in the willingness, as well as the ability, of the person directed, has great influence upon the minds of all young persons whose tempers and inclinations have not been warped by ill-usage, or soured by disappointment. Very young servants frequently take pride in their work, though of the most laborious kind, and many a young girl might be proud to improve in the more refined departments of housewifery, and would regard a little congratulation upon the lightness of her pastry, or the excellence of her cakes, as worth ten times all the thought and care which she had bestowed upon them. There is no mistress who does not acknowledge the importance of a servant who can assist in preserving, pickling, wine-making, and other things of this description, which demand both skill and labour, and which must, where there is no one but the mistress herself sufficiently acquainted with them to be trusted, take up much of her time and give her considerable trouble.

To teach poor children to become useful servants, may, perhaps, be thought a serious task; but it surely cannot be said that this sort of instruction is at all more difficult than that which is necessary to give them even a tolerable proficiency in the lowest branches of literature. The learning here recommended, seems naturally more inviting, as well as more needful, than that which is taught in the ordinary course of school education; and it possesses this advantage, that while its benefits are equally lasting, they are immediately perceptible. It is sometimes said that the poor are ungrateful, and that after all the pains and trouble which may have been taken in making them good servants, it often happens, that instead of testifying a proper sense of the obligation, they become restless, and desirous of leaving those who have had all the trouble of qualifying them for better places and higher wages. Servants cannot be prevented from bettering themselves, as they call it, but that constant changing of place which operates as one of the worst examples to young women who are at service, would become less frequent if their employments were occasionally varied by relaxation and amusement, and their services now and then rewarded by small presents. The influence of early habits is so universally felt and acknowledged, that it seems almost superfluous to ask why an early and industrious education of the poor, and the teaching of the youth of both sexes to look upon prosperity and right endeavour as inseparable, should not produce a taste, the reverse of that which leads to a discontented and unsettled existence.

It is equally the interest of the rich and of the poor, that the youthful inhabitants of the mansion and those of the cottage, should grow up with sentiments of mutual good will. If the poor are indebted to their opulent neighbours for the assistance which makes a hard lot tolerable, there exists a reciprocal obligation on the part of the rich, since they could not obtain the comforts and the luxuries which they enjoy, without the aid of those who are less fortunate than themselves. But there is another and superior motive, which ought to narrow the distance between the poor and the rich: the lady of the mansion, when she meets her washerwoman in the village church, must know that, in that place, she and the hard-working woman are equals. The lady of the mansion, when she beholds the ravages which but a few years of toil have wrought in the once blooming and healthful country girl, is astonished, perhaps, that her own looks and health have not undergone a similar change; but, she forgets that the pitiable creature before her has been exposed to the damp floors and steams of a wash-house, to the chill of a cold drying-ground, and the oppressive heat of an ironing stove, in order to earn her miserable portion of the necessaries of life. No wonder that her beauty has vanished; that her countenance betrays the marks of premature age, and that her air of cheerfulness is exchanged for that of a saddened resignation. But the lady of the mansion should not, in the confidence of her own happier fate, lose sight of the fact, that this poor and destitute creature is a woman as well as herself; that her poor inferior is liable to all those delicacies and weaknesses of constitution of which she herself is sensible; and that, in the eyes of their Maker, the peeress and the washerwoman hold equal rank.

The ingratitude of the poor is often made a pretext for neglecting to relieve their wants. But are not their superiors ungrateful? Is "the ingratitude of the world," of which philosophers of the earliest ages have said so much, confined to the lowly and unrefined? By no means. High birth and refinement in breeding do not, alone, ensure feelings of honour and of kindness to the heart, any more than they ensure common sense and sound judgment to the head; for these qualities seem to be in the very nature of some, while it passes the power of all art to implant them in others. It is for those who have known what adversity is to say whether they have not met with instances of devoted attachment, of generosity, and of every other good feeling, on the part of servants, at the very time when they have been depressed by the heart-sick sensation caused by the desertion of friends. Those have been unfortunate in their experience of human nature, who cannot bear testimony to the admirable conduct of servants in fulfilling that wearisome, and often most trying, but at the same time most imperative of all earthly duties, attendance upon a sick bed. Perhaps it has not occurred to most others, as it has to me, to witness such proofs of virtue in poor people. Among the truly charitable there are, no doubt, many in whom disgust has been excited by ingratitude; but has it been excited by the hard-working and the half-starving only? It is but a very limited acquaintance with this life, which can justify the unselfish and noble nature in denouncing the poor, for being ungrateful. Be this, however, as it may, one thing is certain, that no probability of disappointment, no apprehensions of an ungrateful return, ought to have any influence with the mind of a Christian, and that such obstacles were never yet a hinderance to any man or woman whose desire was to do good.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

THE ENGLISH HOUSEKEEPER.

CHAPTER I.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.

It would be impossible to give rules for the management of a domestic establishment, because they would necessarily be subject to many and various exceptions, produced by various circumstances. But a few general observations, accompanied by remarks on the most important matters in domestic life, may not be unacceptable to young housekeepers.

In the young and thoughtless, a spirit of emulation, leading them to vie with those who are richer than themselves, is often the source of domestic unhappiness, by causing so much to be sacrificed to appearance, as to circumscribe the means of enjoying the substantial comforts of life. It sometimes manifests itself in houses, equipages, and retinues of servants; but amongst persons of moderate income, for whose use this work is principally intended, it is commonly displayed in costly furniture and expensive entertainments. Many young married women conceive the notion, that unless they have as fine a house, as expensive furniture, plate, china, and glass, as some others have, and give as fine entertainments as others give; in short, unless they make the appearance of living quite as well as their richer neighbours, they will not be held in equal estimation. It is not that they derive any real pleasure from the false appearance which they make; indeed, expensive furniture is but an annoyance to its possessor, if there be not a sufficient number of good servants to keep it in order. Where the whole family concur in this sort of pride, no mortification arises from difference of opinion, but the unanimity tends only to accelerate the ruin.

The young housekeeper should consider the serious consequences that are likely to result from setting out in a style of lavish expenditure, and she should remember that, while it is easy to extend, it is extremely difficult to reduce, her establishment. One expensive article requires another to correspond with it, and one expensive entertainment imposes the necessity of other equally expensive entertainments; for it requires no small share of moral courage to risk the loss of consequence which may result by its being surmised that we are not so well off, as we have been supposed to be. And when the time comes, as sooner or later it assuredly must, when the means are not adequate to the demands, what sacrifices are made, and what unseemly contrivances are resorted to, in order to keep up, to the last, a poor remnant of "appearance!" and, when this can no longer be effected, then comes the humiliation, with all the bitter feelings attendant upon retrenchment; of all which feelings, the bitterest is, the dread of being degraded in the world's estimation. To endure privations with resignation, to feel the want of habitual comforts, yet be grateful for the blessings which are left to us, is the duty of every Christian, and is the less arduous when the reverse of fortune which has befallen us, has not been produced by any fault of our own. But if, in addition to the distresses of adversity, the wife and the mother be doomed to writhe under the pang of self-reproach, great indeed must be her suffering, and one for which I can suggest no adequate relief. To the young and generous-minded, the hardest portion which accompanies reverses of fortune, is, the change which they sometimes produce in the behaviour of acquaintances. When we are become poorer than we were, and have lost the ability to entertain guests in the accustomed manner, it is painful to perceive some of those very people who have been the most hospitably entertained, and who, in our prosperity, have appeared the most attached to us, turn from us and our difficulties, while they banish from their minds the recollection of past kindness. To meet with indifference in those whose smiles have courted ours; to feel that we have thrown away sincere friendship upon mere heartlessness, is hard to be endured, even by the faultless, but how intolerable must it be, when aggravated by the consciousness that we have incurred it by our own misconduct. To the experienced, this is one of the severest vicissitudes of life; what, then, must it be to us, before we have acquired that equanimity of mind, which falls only to the lot of those who have passed through the ordeal of the world, and who have been amply compensated for the desertion of the many, by the sincerity, the warmth of heart, and the steadfastness of the few.

Houses and furniture properly belong to the extraordinary expenses of the household. When a young woman is called upon to exercise her judgment in the choice of a house, she must pause before she rejects one which, though she may consider it rather too small, might, nevertheless, be made to accommodate the family well enough, and might be fitted up at a less cost than a larger one. Such a house would require fewer servants, and would certainly present a better appearance, than one that is rather too large for the quantity, or for the style of its furniture, and is, perhaps, larger than is actually required for the number of its inhabitants. It is easier to remove from a small to a large house, when circumstances require it, than it is to remove from a large to a small one. It is so easy to increase our wants, and so difficult to reduce them, that young persons should begin the world with caution, and not multiply their wants, lest, in time, they lack the means of gratifying them.

In fitting up a house, the young housekeeper, who sets out with a determination to choose furniture suitable to her circumstances and station in life, will be content with that which is just good enough, rather than be induced to exceed her previous good intentions, and gratify her fancy at the expense of her comforts. She must never yield to the seductive reflection, that "only five pounds more cannot make much difference;" for, the same argument may be equally applied to the sofa, the tables, the carpet, the curtains, the grate, the fire-irons and fender; all of which are necessary to furnish a dining room; to say nothing of the lamps, the mirrors, and other articles of ornament, which fashion in some cases makes of absolute necessity. If "only five pounds" be given for some of these, and two, or even one pound, for others, more than is necessary, she will find that the "difference" is very great by the time that she has fitted up only one room.

The rage for vying with our superiors shows itself in the bad taste which encumbers houses with unsuitable furniture. Massive sideboards, and unwieldy chairs, occupy too much space in a small room, while draperies not only obscure the light, but have an inelegant appearance, unless the room be large and lofty, or in keeping with the size and weight of cornices, cords, tassels, and other ornaments, which give offence to the eye when too gorgeous or prominent. Of equal bad taste, is the habit of occasionally changing furniture, to suit the varying of fashions; which is so much the practice that even persons in trade, having families to provide for, change furniture, sufficiently good to serve its purpose for a lifetime, for other no handsomer, but a little more fashionable.

It is strange that persons pretending to gentility should not rather imitate the higher class of their superiors, who value their high-backed chairs the more because they are old, and would on no account exchange them for modern finery. When expensive furniture is introduced into the houses of persons of small fortune, the long upholsterer's bill rises like a phantom before the misplaced couches, ottomans, and ottoman sofas, crowded into small drawing rooms; and my feelings of regret become almost feelings of indignation on seeing plate, which belonged to fathers and mothers, or to grandfathers and grandmothers, and spoons which have touched those lips which spoke tenderness to our infancy, about to be bartered for the "Prince's," the "King's," or the "fiddle pattern," or for some other pattern that may happen to offer the newest temptation to vulgar taste.

Every young woman who has the good taste to wish that her house may be characterised by its simplicity, and be more remarkable for comfort than for show, will, if she wish to spare herself and her family much discomfort, avoid having show-rooms; such rooms, I mean, as are considered too fine to be habitually occupied by the family, and are, therefore, kept shut up; except when, on particular occasions, and perhaps only a few times in the year, a fire is lighted for the reception of company. Upon such occasions, children are seen to look about them as if they had never beheld the place before; the master of the house fidgets from one seat to another, as if he were anywhere but at home; and it is probable, that before the entertainment is over, the mistress of the house is heard to remark, that she is "never so comfortable as in the room she is accustomed to;" by which her friends discover that their visit has put her out of the way. True hospitality conceals from guests any trouble which their presence may unavoidably occasion; but in the luxurious taste of the times, there is little real hospitality left: friendly intercourse seems lost in ostentatious display, and in our vain attempts to equal, if not to outshine, each other. Most persons acknowledge this to be the case, and lament that it is so; yet few have the courage to pursue a different system.

There is no species of decoration which produces so much effect in ornamenting a house as flowers. The artificial productions of the painter and the upholsterer, the gilded ceilings, glittering mirrors, and couches of brocade, are more splendid and durable, and are worthy of admiration for their individual beauty and the ingenuity and industry which has produced them, but they have not the lively, gay, and varied attractions of flowers. Vases, whether gaudy or elegant, excite interest only as mere objects of curiosity, unless filled with flowers.

To point to any particular department of the household, as demanding the greatest share of attention, would tend rather to mislead than instruct; for a due proportion ought to be bestowed upon every department; where the mistress of the house is over particular on any one point, other matters, of equal importance, may be neglected.

Perfect and uniform neatness is indispensable, not only for comfort, but appearance. By uniform neatness, I mean, that nothing which presents itself, whether about the house, in the dress of mistress, children, or servants, should be left open to unfavourable remark. A young lady who relaxes in attention to her own dress, merely because she has more important cares after, than she had before her marriage, does wrong; but she whose studied attire forms a contrast to the little soiled fingers which are forbidden to approach it; she who strikes the beholder as having bestowed care on herself, while her children bear the appearance of neglect, does infinitely worse. To preserve the neatness of a house, there must be regular attention on the part of the mistress. I am a great enemy to the system of periodical scrubbings and general house-cleanings, which prevails to so great an extent, and especially in the country, where, when the appointed day comes round, carpets are taken up, and floors, even though they be delicately clean, are washed, whether the weather be suitable or otherwise, the health of the family being left to take its chance. The day of general house-cleaning is no other than a day of commotion and discomfort. One attendant evil is, the make-up dinner, which does not, perhaps, content all the family; and it is a singular piece of good fortune if friends do not select that very day for paying you a visit. It is certainly a more simple process to clean a house, than it is to keep a house clean; for mere labour is required for the one, while method is necessary for the other. But this method every young housekeeper should endeavour to acquire. Sweeping, dusting, and polishing, should proceed daily. Carpets should be swept every day with a hair broom; but only once a week with a carpet broom, because it wears them: and damp tea leaves should always be used, whether in sweeping carpets or boards, as they lay the dust, which would otherwise fly over the furniture, and again settle on the floor. Bed room carpets should be in different pieces, not nailed to the floor, for the convenience of shaking, which may then be done once in a week. Bed rooms should be swept every day, and a damp mop passed under the beds, chests of drawers, &c., &c., which will remove all the flue and dust, and prevent accumulation of dirt, so that the washing of boards will not be so often required during the winter. In summer, indeed, frequent washings refreshen the atmosphere, and are also beneficial in removing the collections of light dust which engender insects so difficult to get rid of.

Upon the subject of wet boards, I believe that my dislike to great scrubbings was acquired in that cleanest of cities, Philadelphia; where, though American servants do not and will not work so hard as English servants, yet, because it was the custom of the place, they were, notwithstanding severe cold, everlastingly scrubbing the stairs during the months of December and January. Some years afterwards, at Rome, one of the dirtiest of cities, and in the middle of summer, I recalled to mind, with a complacency I had never bestowed on them before, the scrubbing-brushes and the curd-white pails of Philadelphia, and marvelled, as every one must, that in wet and cold countries people wash their houses so much, and that, in hot and dry countries, they do not wash them at all.

With regard to the ordinary expenses of housekeeping, the most important branch of domestic duty which devolves upon the mistress is, to estimate and keep an exact account of the expenditure of her family. She may make this a simple affair by first ascertaining the sum of money to be allotted to it, and then making such arrangements as will confine the expenses rigidly within that sum. By keeping a strict account of every article for the first three months, and making a due allowance for casualties, she will be able to form an estimate for the year; and if she find she has exceeded in these three months the allotted sum, she must examine each article, and decide where she can best diminish the expense; and then, having this average to go by, she may calculate how much to allow each month for meat, bread, groceries, washing, and sundries. Having formed her plan, whatever excess circumstances may have required in one month, she must make up for in the next. I should not advise paying for everything at the moment, but rather once a week; for if a tradesman omit to keep an account of the money received for a particular article, he may, by mistake, make a charge for it, as something had upon trust. A weekly account has every advantage of ready money, and is a more convenient mode of payment. All tradesmen may be paid on a Monday morning, the bills receipted, endorsed, and put by in a portfolio or case (which should have the date of the year on the outside), and they can then be referred to as vouchers, or to refresh the memory as to the price of any particular article. It is a satisfaction, independently of the pecuniary benefit, for the head of a family to be able, at the end of the year, to account to herself for what she has done with her money.

Having, in the arrangement of her house, and in the choice of her servants, kept in view the two main objects, namely, the comfort of her family, and the care of her purse, the young housekeeper ought to commence her career, by strictly adhering to order and regularity in the performance of those duties which devolve peculiarly upon herself. If the mistress of a house be regular in the superintendence of her domestic affairs, if she proceed every day to each department at the appointed time, and never pass over any neglect, in such a manner as to give the servants an idea that it had escaped her observation; if, in short, she be regular herself, her servants must be so too, and she will find the business of housekeeping a matter of no difficulty, and of comparatively little labour.

The comfort and respectability of a house depend, in a great degree, upon the servants. Clean, neatly-dressed, and well-behaved servants, always impress a visitor with a favourable idea of the mistress of a house; while it is scarcely possible not to be somewhat prejudiced against her, if they be the reverse.

Servants who understand their work, and do it without being continually looked after, are invaluable; and, as regards wages, not to be compared with ignorant and incapable ones, who perform their services only as they are directed at every turn. A few pounds a year more to a good servant is not, therefore, a consideration; the addition in wages will occasion little additional cost; for, the bad servant consumes as much as the other, and she wastes or damages more.

The hours of meals should vary as little as possible; particularly the first meal of the day; for the work may be said to commence immediately after breakfast, and when that takes place one hour only, after the usual time, the whole business of the house is retarded. In even the most regular families, the time of dining may unavoidably be postponed. But this should happen as seldom as possible: for if the dinner ordered for five, be kept waiting till half-past six, one day, and, perhaps, later still another day, the cook may be prevented from performing some other part of her work, for which she had allotted the time; she will naturally be dissatisfied in having to consume that time in watching over the dinner; and if the dinner upon which she has, perhaps, exerted her utmost skill, be spoiled by waiting, she may be excused if she reproach herself for having taken so much trouble in its preparation. If the trial of her patience and temper be repeated, she will soon take little interest in pleasing her employers; she will take her turn to be irregular, and that, perhaps, on some occasion when it may produce inconvenience to the family. Under such circumstances, it would be unreasonable to find fault with the cook, who would only be following the bad example of those whose duty it is to preserve regularity. Their hours for going to bed, and getting up, should be as early as other arrangements will permit. But, those ought to be so regulated as to make it unnecessary that the servants should be kept up late, except on extraordinary occasions. Late dinners have, in a great measure, done away with hot suppers. Where these are not eaten, the labours of the twenty-four hours may be ended by ten o'clock at night; and that is the latest hour at which the servants of a family of the middle rank, and of regular habits, ought to remain up. Some one of the family should see that fires have been put out, and doors and windows secured.

The honesty of servants depends, principally, upon their bringing up. But it also depends much, with young servants especially, upon the temptations to be dishonest they may have had to contend with; and it is the duty of every master and mistress to put all such temptations out of their way, as much as possible. The practice of locking up does not, as a matter of course, imply distrust, but it denotes care; and surely carefulness is one of the first principles to impress upon the mind of a poor person. I would as scrupulously avoid anything which should lead a servant to imagine that a drawer or tea-chest was locked up from her, as I would avoid giving the same idea to an acquaintance; but it is a culpable practice to leave tea, sugar, wine, or other things, open at all times, or only now and then locked up. The habit is bad; and it is the result, not of generosity, but of negligence; it is also a habit which cannot fail to excite, in the minds of experienced and well-disposed servants, feelings rather of contempt, than of respect for their employers; while to the young, and more particularly to those of unsettled principles, it is nothing less than a temptation to crime. Little pilferings at the tea-chest, perhaps, have been the beginning of that which has ended in depriving a poor girl of her character, and, consequently, of all chance of gaining her bread by honest means. To suspect servants of being disposed to be dishonest merely because they are servants, is as silly as it is unfeeling. I should never hesitate to give my keys to a servant, when it happened to be inconvenient to me to leave company, any more than I should hesitate to entrust them to one of my own family; but such an act of confidence is far different in its effects, from that neglect which often proceeds from mere idleness, and, while it proclaims a disregard of the value of property, is the occasion of much waste, and, in the end, proves as ruinous to the employer as it is fatal in the way of example to servants.

That "servants are plagues" may be the fact; but when the hardships which belong to the life of a maid-servant are taken into consideration, the wonder is, that they are not less obedient to the will of their employers, and more callous to their displeasure, than we really find them. It is too much the habit to regard servants as inferior beings, hired and paid to perform certain services, but whose feelings are unworthy of the consideration of those upon whom they wait, for whom they cook, and whom they enable to sit at their ease, or to go about, and take their pleasure. True, they are paid for what they do; but how paid? Not in a degree adequate to their services. The double or the treble of what they are paid, would not compensate us for the discomfort of having to work for ourselves. Yet, "they are paid for it," is said in justification of unreasonable demands upon the time, strength, and patience of servants; when, in fact, the whole of the pay to a female servant consists of that food, without which she would be unable to work, and of a sum of money, barely sufficient to keep her clothed, which she is required to be, for the credit of the house she lives in. Ladies who shudder as they meet the cold air, in descending to their breakfast rooms, forget the sufferings of the female servant, who has, perhaps, gone to bed over-night exhausted by fatigue, but whose duty compels her to rise again, some hours before she is rested, to begin her work afresh, and to do over again all that had been done the day before. A lady who thinks her servant sufficiently paid for all she endures, has never known what it is to get up in the dark of a cold winter morning, and to spend half-an-hour on her knees, labouring to produce a polish on the bars of a grate, which bars were burnt black yesterday, and will be burnt black again to-day. Such a lady has never suffered from the drudgery of a kitchen, not from the scorching of a kitchen fire, either of which is sufficient to impair the constitution of any woman, independently of all that wearing of the spirits, which those exposed to such trials must experience.

It is true, also, that it is by their own choice that servants go to service; they are not compelled to do so by any other law than that of necessity; but starvation is their only alternative; and we should think it hard to be reduced to the alternative of either starving to death, in the bloom of our youth, and of quitting a world which was made for us, as well as for our more fortunate fellow beings, or of yielding up the whole of our lives, to promote the ease of those who deem us amply rewarded, in being fed and clothed, and suffered to repose from toil, at those times only when their wants happen not to require our attention.

The apprehension of lowering our dignity and encouraging disrespect, by giving way to familiarity with inferiors, is pleaded by some as an excuse for haughty and overbearing demeanour towards servants. But such as adopt that kind of demeanour are mistaken. There are few better judges of good breeding than servants. Their ideas upon this subject are not formed by rules, or by fashions; but they have generally, from observation, a remarkably correct knowledge both of what is due to themselves, and of what is most becoming to the dignity of their superiors. I have occasionally been astonished at the quickness with which a servant has made the discovery, that some upstart person, notwithstanding her lofty bearing, "was no lady." The behaviour which characterises such persons is more likely to give rise to contempt, in those who are beneath them, than any behaviour that is unaffectedly conciliating and kind. To be loved, and to be cheerfully served, is for those only who respect the feelings, and consult the comfort of their dependents; and, as a single trait is often sufficient to reveal the whole character, they will most assuredly be disappointed, who expect to meet with the qualities which conduce to the happiness of domestic life, in a woman who considers the feelings of a female servant as unworthy of the same consideration as that which she gives to the feelings of others of her own sex.

With regard to the general character and merits of servants, nothing is more common than the remark, that "servants are not so good as they used to be." This is surely an error. There cannot be a greater predisposition to misconduct in them now than formerly. It may be said, that there are more frequent instances of bad conduct; but this does not warrant the idea, that the servants of the present day have a degree of inborn viciousness from which those of times past were free. If all who rail at the negligences, the waste, the want of care, the dislike of work, and the liking for dress and for gadding, to which servants are as much addicted as their betters; if all such were themselves as free from fault as they would have their servants be, it would probably be found that the effect, what with precept and example combined, would be quite enough to banish this commonplace remark. The truth is, that the change which has taken place in the habits of the middle class, has produced a change, but a very natural change, in the habits of those of a more humble station. There exists now a greater degree of high living than formerly; and consequently, a want of frugality, a waste in all sorts of ways, formerly unknown. Persons of moderate income keep more company than persons of the same class used to keep; they imitate the late hours, and other fashionable habits which used to be reckoned among the privileges of their superiors in fortune, instead of wisely avoiding emulation in such things, and keeping to their own more simple, and less hazardous mode of life. What wonder, then, if we find the most humble copying those of the middling, when the middling are doing all they can to rival those of the highest rank.

Servants were formerly more the object of care with their employers than they have been of late. When ladies gave a considerable portion of their time to domestic duties, and prided themselves on their skill in household matters, they were not above maintaining a certain degree of friendly intercourse with their servants. This afforded opportunities for giving good counsel, and for superintending their conduct, and was a more efficient check upon them than "a good scolding now and then," which many think better than "being always on the watch."

In addressing myself to young persons, it may not be considered impertinent or foreign to the general purpose of this work, to offer a few remarks upon the subject of company. I do not mean in respect to the selection of friends and acquaintance, or the kind of visitors proper to be invited, but simply as to the mode of entertaining them, which must, necessarily, be a matter of importance in housekeeping, and, therefore, comes properly within the scope of domestic economy.

It should be a rule, not to invite such visitors as cannot be entertained without trespassing on the comforts and conveniences of the family. True hospitality may be enjoyed without much ceremony, and may be practised in the plainest manner; but when efforts to entertain company disturb the usual arrangements of a house, they are inconsistent with their object. Let nothing, therefore, be attempted which cannot be performed without difficulty; let nothing be provided which cannot be provided plentifully; let nothing which is necessary be wanting, and nothing produced which may seem to be out of place or uncalled for. Do nothing, in short, which you cannot really afford to do; and the result will be, that while you consult your own ease, you will, at the same time, ensure that freedom from restraint which contributes, more than all besides, to make visiting agreeable, and which never fails to create in your departing guest, those mixed feelings of regret at going, but of pleasure at the prospect of returning, which are amongst the most flattering acknowledgments that genuine hospitality can receive.

CHAPTER II.

THE STORE ROOM.

Every housekeeper knows the value of a good Store-room; for it seems to be little less essential than a good kitchen. Few modern town residences, except those for large establishments, have a store-room sufficiently large to answer all its purposes.

In the country a good store-room is so indispensable that where there is none it ought to be built; it should be on the same floor with, and as near as possible to, the kitchen; and as this would be on the ground floor, it would be necessary to make a cellar underneath, or to raise the building a little distance from the ground, to prevent its being damp, above all things to be guarded against, in a place where stores are kept. It may, perhaps, be kept dry by flues from the kitchen fire; and this would be a saving of fuel and labour; but if not practicable, the room should have a fire-place.

If it be sufficiently large, and there be no other place for the purpose, there might be a closet, or press, for household linen. This should always be kept in a dry situation, and in some houses a small room is fitted up, with closets or presses round it, some of these having shelves or drawers for linen, and others with hooks, for a variety of things belonging to a family; but in this room there ought to be a fire-place, unless it be aired by one adjoining. In the store-room, there should be a closet or shelves for china and glass, not in every-day use. But as these ought to be free from dust, open shelves would not be so desirable as a closet; and if expense is not of importance, glass doors would be the most convenient. Preserves and pickles require air; they will ferment if shut up, or the place very warm; and, therefore, open shelves are best for them; and they should be at a convenient distance from the ground, so as not to be out of sight, for they ought to be examined frequently, and the coverings dusted. For bottles of green gooseberries, peas, or any kind of fruit preserved dry, without sugar, have shelves with holes in them, to turn the bottles with their necks downwards. This effectually excludes the air.

A dresser is a convenience in a store-room; or a table in the middle of the room may answer the purpose; but in either of these, or at the bottom of the linen press, there should be drawers for dusters, tea-cloths, &c., &c., unless they be kept in the Pantry.

There should be boxes for candles and soap, but as these smell, the store-boxes may be kept in a garret, or some dry place, and a smaller quantity in the store-room for immediate use. Late in the summer is the best time to provide the year's stock of candles and soap. Both are the better for being kept some time before they are used: and the latter should be cut in pieces the size required for the different household purposes, and left, before packed in the box, a few days exposed to the air; but not in a thorough draught, for that would cause the soap to crack. It is mismanagement to buy candles a few at a time, and soap just as it is wanted; and not good to buy cheap candles. The dearest articles are not always the best; but it is very certain that the best are the cheapest. Good candles afford more light than bad; and do not waste, particularly if they have been kept some time, even for a year.

There ought to be a place in the store-room appropriated to groceries, for they, too, should be laid in, not oftener than two or three times a year. The price of starch varies with the price of flour; and, therefore, as it keeps well, a stock should be laid in when flour is at a low price. Rice keeps very well, and is useful in a family, particularly in the country, where new milk and eggs are plenty. We once kept a quantity more than three years, by spreading a well-aired linen sheet in a box, and folding it over the rice, the sheet lifted out on the floor, once in two or three months, and the rice spread about upon the sheet for a day or two. This had the effect of keeping away the weevil. Jars and canisters, with closely fitting lids, for tea, sugar, coffee, cocoa, mustard, pepper, spices, and such things, will last many years. By giving, in the course of the year, one or two large orders, to any respectable shop, and always to the same one, you may pretty well depend upon being supplied with good articles; but not so, if you send here and there, and for small quantities at a time; besides the inconvenience of finding yourself, now and then, without the very thing which you want. To dispose of these things properly, they should be kept in a closet, some in earthen jars, others in tin or japan boxes; and the spices in little drawers very closely fitted. If drawers, which are preferable, they should be labelled.

As it may be convenient sometimes to perform little culinary matters in the store-room, there should be a rolling pin, pasteboard, and pestle and mortar kept there, in addition to those of the kitchen, and on this account a small marble slab would be very useful, for making pastry in hot weather. The fire-place might have an oven attached to it; for though it would be imprudent to heat the store-room, on account of preserves, &c., it may be occasionally used, when there is more cooking than usual. Besides which, in the season for making preserves, a hot plate in the store-room would be found useful. Weights and scales of various sizes are absolutely necessary, that the housekeeper may be able to ascertain the weight of the largest joint of meat, as well as of the smallest quantity of spice. Care should be taken to keep these in good order.—A hanging shelf is also a good thing in a store-room. Here the flour-bin may find a place, if there be no other more suitable.

A store-room of this description is not adapted for keeping fruit; it would be too warm, besides that the fruit might prove injurious to other stores, from the smell which it occasions. There are various methods of keeping apples through the winter; but scarcely any other will be found to succeed so well as that of making layers of fruit, and layers of perfectly fresh and dry straw, in hampers, boxes, or the corner of a dry room. The apples should be examined every now and then, the specked ones taken away for use, the others wiped, and covered up again. In hard frosts, windows that have no shutters could be covered with rugs, old carpet, or mats, and something of the same kind spread over the apples. When we were in America, we were surprised to find that our neighbours took so little care to preserve their apples, during the three months of unremitting hard frost, which occur in their winter season. They merely laid their apples on the floor of a spare room, sometimes of the barn, or of an outhouse, each sort by itself, and then covered them with a linen sheet. The people told us that their apples never became frozen, and attributed this to the dryness of the atmosphere. Apples and pears may also be preserved in the following way. Gather them on a dry day: wipe, and roll them, singly, in very soft paper, then pack them in jars, each containing about a gallon. Put a cover on the jar, and cement it closely, so as to keep out the air; and place the jar in a dry cellar. When a jar is opened, the fruit will eat the better for being taken out of the paper, and exposed to the air of a warm room for two or three days. Large baking pears may be suspended by their stalks on lines, placed across near the ceiling of a room. There are many ways of preserving grapes; but the best way is, to gather them with about five or six inches of the branch to each bunch, to seal the end with common sealing wax, and hang them to lines in a dry room. Examine them frequently, and cut out the mouldy berries. Nuts of all kinds may be preserved in jars, the covers cemented, the jars in a dry cellar.

In this short sketch of what a store-room ought to be, even in the plainest houses in the country, many things requisite to the fitting up of a complete one are omitted. But one thing more necessary to be observed than any other, must not be omitted; which is, that it must be always in order, and everything kept in its proper place, or the main object in having it will be defeated. A store-room out of order can be compared to nothing but a drawer in a state of confusion. A lady once dressing in haste, to keep an appointment for which she was already too late, needed the assistance of all about her, to aid in her search for different articles necessary to complete her toilet. I sought a pair of gloves, and discovered many single ones of various sorts and colours, but no two to form a perfect match. And with this ill success must have ended my labours, if the drawer had not been regularly put to rights: and by the time that scarfs were folded, ribands rolled, collars smoothed, and scissors disentangled from sewing silk, half a dozen gloves were paired.

The saving of time occasioned by observing order, and the waste of time occasioned by want of order, are incalculable. A general putting to rights, every now and then, does not answer the purpose, because, in that case, it is sure to happen that some things will find new places; and persons coming in a hurry be unable to find them. The mistress of a house, when she sends her servant or a child to a store-room, should be able to say precisely where what she wants may be found. Negligence, and its companion disorder, are the two demons of housekeeping. Once admit them, and, like the moth, they gradually but completely destroy.

CHAPTER III.

THE PANTRY.

What is commonly called the Butler's Pantry, does not of necessity imply the presence of a butler; nor does it require to be spacious, when the china and glass not in daily use are kept in the store-room. Where women servants only are kept, the care of the pantry belongs either to the parlourmaid or the housemaid, and the same servant usually performs the office of laying the cloth, and waiting at table: which is always done better by women than by men servants, except it be the higher order of men servants, those who are in the daily practice of it, and whose occupation is in the house. The same hands which, in the morning, rubbed down the horses, swept the stable, cleaned the harness, and blackened the shoes, seem unfit to be employed in placing dishes on the dining-table, folding up napkins, and handling tea-things. It is almost impossible that occupations so widely differing should be equally well suited to one and the same person. The employing of men servants in work which properly belongs to women is highly objectionable; and nothing renders travelling in the South of France and Italy so disagreeable as being waited on by men, acting as housemaids and chambermaids. If, indeed, men were employed to scrub the floor, wash the stone halls, and clean the dirty doorsteps in London, the lives of many female servants might be saved. But the more delicate occupations, such as wiping glasses, trimming candles, and waiting in the parlour, seem more suitable for women.

Some women servants, it is true, never learn to wait at table well; but, then, others are very expert at it. Short people are generally the most nimble, but it is desirable that the servant who waits at table be tall, for the convenience of setting on and taking off dishes; and it requires long arms to carry heavy mahogany trays. Practice is as necessary to good waiting as it is in any of the higher domestic occupations. The mistress, therefore, should require the same particularity in preparing the table, arranging the sideboard, and waiting at dinner, when her family dines alone, as she requires when there are visitors; because, in the latter case, an increase in number gives sufficient additional trouble to a servant, without her being thrown into confusion by having to do what she may have forgotten, from being out of practice.

There is one item of expenditure in housekeeping which should not be too narrowly restricted, and that is the washing of table-cloths and napkins. The fineness is not so much a matter of consideration with me: neither should I desire a clean table-cloth every day, merely for the sake of the change; but, if at all soiled, I would rather not see it on the table again. It is a very neat practice to spread a napkin on the centre of the table, large or small according to the size of the latter, and to remove it with the meat. In Italy this napkin is clean every day, and I have seen it folded in a three-cornered shape, and then crimped at the edges with the thumb and finger, which, when the napkin was spread out, gave it a pretty appearance. It is also a neat practice to place the dessert on the table cloth, and a convenient one too, where there are few servants, because the cloth saves the table; and rubbing spots out of dining tables, day after day, seems waste of labour. But the cloth must be preserved from gravy spots, or it will disgrace the dessert. A baize between two cloths is sometimes used, and this, being rolled up with the upper cloth and removed with the dinner, leaves the under cloth for the dessert. A table cloth once folded may be laid over the one which is spread, and then removed with the dinner. A table cloth press is a convenience.

The fitting up of the pantry must, in a great measure, be regulated by the style of the establishment, but, in any case, there should be a dresser, furnished with drawers, one for table cloths, napkins and mats (unless all these be kept in sideboard drawers); another for tea cloths, glass cloths, dusters, &c. &c., and another drawer lined with baize, for the plate which is in use. Plate-leathers, flannels and brushes, kept in a bag; and the cloths and brushes used in cleaning furniture, in another bag, to preserve them from dust. A small sink, with the water laid on, indispensable. There should also be a horse, or lines, for drying tea and glass cloths upon.

China and glass, whether plain or of the finest kind, require to be kept equally clean; and the servant whose business this is ought to have soft cloths for the purpose. China should be washed in warm water, with a piece of flannel, and wiped with a clean and soft cloth, or it will look dull. Glass washed in cold water, drained nearly dry, and then wiped; if the cloth be not clean and dry, the glasses will not look clear. For cut glass a brush, because a cloth will not reach into the crevices to polish it; and dull looking salts, or other cut glass, spoil the appearance of a table. Wash lamps and lustres with soap and cold water. When looking glasses are become tarnished and dull, thump them over with a linen bag containing powdered blue, and wipe it off with a soft cloth.

Paper trays are the best, considering the small difference in the price, compared with the great difference in the appearance: it would be better to save in many other things, than to hear tea-things, glasses, or snuffers, jingle on japan. Paper trays are very durable, if taken care of. They will seldom require washing; but when they do, the water should only be lukewarm, for if hot water be poured on them the paper will blister. Wipe clean with a wet cloth, and when dry, dust a little flour over, and wipe that off with a soft cloth. To prevent their being scratched, keep tea-boards and trays in green baize cases, under the dresser of the pantry, or, if convenient, hung against the wall, to be out of the way, when not in use.

Plate, plain, handsome, old or new, looks badly, if not perfectly clean and polished. Washing is of great consequence; and if in cold soft water, wiped dry with a linen cloth, and then polished with leather, it will not want any other cleaning oftener than once a week. Unskilful servants may do great injury by using improper things to polish plate, or by rubbing it too hard, for that may bend it. Plate should be kept covered up, when not in use, to preserve it from tarnish. Tea pots, coffee pots, sugar bowls, cream jugs, candlesticks, and all large things, each in a separate bag of cloth, baize, or leather; a lined basket for that which is in daily use, preserves it from scratches. Where there is neither butler, nor housekeeper, to take charge of it, the mistress of the house usually has the plate basket taken at night into her own room, or that of some one of the family, where it may, occasionally, be looked over and compared with the inventory, kept in the basket. If a spoon or any article be missing, it should be immediately inquired after; the effect of this will be that the servant who has the care of these things will take more care of them for the future. It has happened to us to have spoons found, at different times, in the pig-sty, which had been thrown out in the wash. If they had not been discovered there, the servant, who was only careless, might have been suspected of dishonesty.

To clean Plate.

Having ready two leathers, and a soft plate brush for crevices, and the plate being washed clean, which it always should be first, rub it with a mixture of prepared chalk, bought at the chemist's, and spirits of wine; let it dry, rub it off with flannel, and polish with leather. I find this the best way of all.

Much of the labour necessary to keep tables in good order might be saved, if mats were used, when jugs of hot water are placed on the table; and, also, if the servant were brought to apply a duster, the instant any accident had occurred to cause a stain. For this purpose a clean and white duster should always be in readiness. Rosewood and all polished, japanned, or other ornamental furniture, is best dusted with a silk handkerchief, and wiped with a soft leather. China and all ornaments dusted with clean leathers.

So little furniture is now used which is not French polished, that I shall only give the plainest receipt I know of, for cleaning mahogany. Take out ink spots with salts of lemon; wet the spot with water, put on enough to cover it, let it be a quarter of an hour, and if not disappeared, put a little more. Wash the table clean with stale beer, let it dry, then brush it well with a clean furniture brush. To polish it, use the following Furniture Paste:—½ lb. beeswax, turpentine to moisten it, or spirits of wine, melt it, stirring well, and put by in a jar for use. Rub some on with a soft cloth, rub it off directly, and polish with another soft cloth.

Nothing betrays slovenliness and want of attention more than ill-used and badly cleaned knives and forks. Plate, glass and china, however common, may be made to answer every purpose; but knives and forks ought to be good in quality, or they soon wear out, and nothing looks so bad on a table as bad knives and forks, and when good they are so expensive that it is unpardonable not to take care of them. Carving knives are of great consequence; there should be a judicious assortment of them, to suit various joints, or different carvers, and particular attention paid to their cleaning and sharpening. When it can be done, knives and forks should be cleaned immediately after they have been used; but when not, they ought, if possible, to be dipped in warm (not hot) water, wiped dry, and laid by till the time of cleaning comes. After bath brick has been used, dip the handles into lukewarm water, or wipe them with a soaped flannel, and then with a dry soft cloth. Inexperienced men servants seldom wipe knives and forks sufficiently; but it is next to impossible for a woman to clean them well, and it is a masculine occupation. To preserve those not in daily use from rust, rub with mutton fat, roll each one in brown paper, and keep in a dry place. A good knife-board indispensable; covered with leather saves the steel, but the knives not so sharp as if cleaned on a board, and bath brick. Both knives and forks are the better for being occasionally plunged into fresh fine earth, for a few minutes. It sweetens them.

Knife-trays do not always have so much care as they ought to have. Out of sight when in the dining-room, they are often neglected in the pantry; but they ought to be as clean as the waiters on which glasses are handed. The tray made of basket work and lined with tin, is best; there should be a clean cloth spread in it, before it is brought into the parlour, and also one in the second tray to receive the knives and forks, as they are taken from the table.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LARDER.

A good larder is essential to every house. It should have a free circulation of air through it, and not be exposed to the sun. If it can be so contrived, the larder ought to be near the kitchen, for the convenience of the cook. For a family of moderate style of living it need not be very roomy. There should be large and strong hooks for meat and poultry; a hanging shelf so placed as for the cook to reach it with ease; and a safe, either attached to the wall, or upon a stand, for dishes of cold meat, pastry, or anything which would be exposed to dust and flies on the shelf. Wire covers should be provided for this purpose, and in hot weather, when it may be necessary to place dishes of meat on a brick floor, these covers will be found to answer every purpose of a safe. There should be a pan, with a cover, for bread, another for butter, and one for cheese. A shelf for common earthenware bowls, dishes, &c., &c., &c. Cold meat, and all things left from the dinner, should be put away in common brown or yellow ware; there ought to be an ample supply of these. Tubs and pans for salted meat sometimes stand in the dairy, but it is not the proper place for them, for meat ought not to be kept in a dairy.

Meat should be examined every day in cold, and oftener in warm weather, as it sometimes taints very soon. Scrape off the outside, if the least appearance of mould, on mutton, beef, or venison; and flour the scraped parts. By well peppering meat you may keep away flies, which cause so much destruction in a short time. But a very coarse cheese-cloth, wrapped round the joint, is more effectual, if the meat is to be dressed soon. Remove the kidneys, and all the suet, from loins which are wanted to hang long, in warm or close weather, and carefully wipe and flour that part of the meat. Before you put meat which is rather stale to the fire, wipe it with a cloth dipped in vinegar. A joint of beef, mutton, or venison, may be saved by being wrapped in a cloth and buried, over night, in a hole dug in fresh mould. Neither veal, pork, or lamb should be kept long.

Poultry and game keep for some length of time, if the weather be dry and cold, but if moist or warm, will be more liable to taint, than venison or any kind of meat, except veal. A piece of charcoal put inside of any kind of poultry will greatly assist to preserve it. Poultry should be picked, drawn and cropped. Do not wash, but wipe it clean, and sprinkle the parts most likely to taint with powdered loaf sugar, salt, and pepper. As I should reject the use of all chemical processes, for the preservation of meat, I do not recommend them to others.

Frost has a great effect upon meat, poultry, and game. Some cooks will not be persuaded of the necessity for its being completely thawed before it is put near the fire; yet it neither roasts, boils, nor eats well, unless this be done. If slightly frozen, the meat may be recovered, by being five or six hours in the kitchen; not near the fire. Another method is, to plunge a joint into a tub of cold water, let it remain two or three hours, or even longer, and the ice will appear on the outside. Meat should be cooked immediately after it has been thawed, for it will keep no longer.

If the tastes of all persons were simple and unvitiated, there would be little occasion for the cook's ingenuity to preserve meat after it has begun to putrefy. An objection to meat in that state, does not arise merely from distaste, but from a conviction of its being most unwholesome. There may have been a difference of opinion among the scientific upon this subject: but, it seems now to be generally considered by those who best understand such matters, that when meat has become poisonous to the air, it is no longer good and nutritious food. The fashion of eating meat à la cannibale, or half raw, being happily on the decline, we may now venture to express our dislike to eat things which are half decomposed, without incurring the charge of vulgarity.

SALTING AND CURING MEAT.

The Counties of England differ materially in their modes of curing bacon and pork; but the palm of excellency in bacon has so long been decreed to Hampshire, that I shall give no other receipts for it, but such as are practised in that, and the adjoining counties. The best method of keeping, feeding, and killing pigs, is detailed in Cobbett's Cottage Economy; and there, also, will be found directions for salting and smoking the flitches, in the way commonly practised in the farm-houses in Hampshire. The smoking of bacon is an important affair, and experience is requisite to give any thing like perfection in the art. The process should not be too slow nor too much hurried. The skin should be made of a dark brown colour, but not black; for by smoking the bacon till it becomes black, it will also be made hard, and cease to have any flavour but that of rust.—Before they are dressed, both bacon and hams require to be soaked in water; the former an hour or two, the latter, all night, or longer, if very dry. But, according to some, the best way to soak a ham is to bury it in the earth, for one, two, or three nights and days, according to its state of dryness.

Meat will not take salt well either in frosty or in warm weather. Every thing depends upon the first rubbing; and the salt, or pickle, should not only be well rubbed in, but this is best done by a hard hand. The following general direction for salting meat may be relied on:—"6 lbs. of salt, 1 lb. of coarse sugar, and 4 oz. of saltpetre, boiled in 4 gallons of water, skimmed and allowed to cool, forms a very strong pickle, which will preserve any meat completely immersed in it. To effect this, which is essential, either a heavy board or flat stone must be laid upon the meat. The same pickle may be used repeatedly, provided it be boiled up occasionally with additional salt to restore its strength, diminished by the combination of part of the salt with the meat, and by the dilution of the pickle by the juices of the meat extracted. By boiling, the albumen, which would cause the pickle to spoil, is coagulated and rises in the form of scum, which must be carefully removed."

It is a good practice to wash meat before it is salted. This is not generally done; but pieces of pork, and, more particularly, beef and tongues, should first lie in cold spring water, and then be well washed to cleanse them from all impurities, in order to ensure their being free from taint; after which, drain the meat, and it will take the salt much quicker for the washing.—Examine it well; and be careful to take all the kernels out of beef.

Some persons like salted meat to be red. For this purpose, saltpetre is necessary. Otherwise, the less use is made of it the better, as it tends to harden the meat. Sweet herbs, spices, and even garlic, may be rubbed into hams and tongues, with the pickle, according to taste. Bay salt gives a nice flavour. Sugar is generally used in curing hams, tongues and beef; for the two latter some recommend lump sugar, others treacle, to make the meat eat short.

In cold weather salt should be warmed before the fire. Indeed, some use it quite hot. This causes it to penetrate more readily into the meat than it does when rendered hard and dry by frost.

Salting troughs or tubs should be clean, and in an airy place. After meat of any kind has been once well rubbed, keep it covered close, not only with the lid of the vessel, but, in addition, with the thick folds of some woollen article, in order to exclude the air. This is recommended by good housekeepers; yet in Hampshire the trough is sometimes left uncovered, the flitches purposely exposed to the air.

To cure Bacon.

As soon as the hog is cut up, sprinkle salt thickly over the flitches, and let them lie on a brick floor all night. Then wipe the salt off, and lay them in a salting trough. For a large flitch of bacon, allow 2 gallons of salt, 1 lb. of bay salt, 4 cakes of salt prunella, a ¼ lb. of saltpetre, and 1 lb. of common moist sugar; divide this mixture into two parts; rub one half into it the first day, and rub it in well. The following day rub the other half in, and continue to rub and turn the flitch every day for three weeks. Then hang the flitches to drain, roll them in bran, and hang them to smoke, in a wood-fire chimney. The more quickly, in reason, they are smoked, the better the bacon will taste.

To cure a Ham.

Let a leg of pork hang for three days; then beat it with a rolling pin, and rub into it 1 oz. of saltpetre finely powdered, and mixed with a small quantity of common salt; let it lie all night. Make the following pickle: a quart of stale strong beer, ½ lb. of bay salt, ½ lb. of common salt, and the same of brown sugar; boil this twenty minutes, then wipe the ham dry from the salt, and with a wooden ladle, pour the pickle, by degrees, and as hot as possible, over the ham; and as it cools, rub it well into every part. Rub and turn it every day, for a week; then hang it, a fortnight, in a wood-smoke chimney. When you take it down, sprinkle black pepper over the bone, and into the holes, to keep it safe from hoppers, and hang it up in a thick paper bag.

Another.

For one of 16 lb. weight. Rub the rind side of the ham with ¼ lb. of brown sugar, then rub it with 1 lb. of salt, and put it in the salting-pan, then rub a little of the sugar, and 1 oz. of saltpetre, and 1 oz. salt prunel, pounded, on the lean side, and press it down; in three days turn it and rub it well with the salt in the pan, then turn it in the pickle for three weeks; take it out, scrape it well, dry it with a clean cloth, rub it slightly with a little salt, and hang it up to dry.

Another.

Beat the ham well on the fleshy side with a rolling pin, then rub into it, on every part, 1 oz. of saltpetre, and let it lie one night. Then take a ½ pint of common salt, and a ¼ pint of bay salt, and 1 lb. of coarse sugar or treacle; mix these ingredients, and make them very hot in a stew-pan, and rub in well for an hour. Then take ½ a pint more of common salt and lay all over the ham, and let it lie on till it melts to brine; keep the ham in the pickle three weeks or a month, till you see it shrink. This is sufficient for a large ham.

Another, said to be equal to the Westphalian.

Rub a large fat ham well, with 2 oz. of pounded saltpetre, 1 oz. of bay salt, and a ¼ lb. of lump sugar: let it lie two days. Prepare a pickle as follows: boil in 2 quarts of stale ale, 1 lb. of bay salt, 2 lb. of common salt, ¾ lb. of lump sugar, 2 oz. of salt prunella, 1 oz. of pounded black pepper, and ½ an oz. of cloves; boil this well, and pour it boiling hot over the ham. Rub and turn it every day for three weeks or a month; then smoke it for about a fortnight.

To cure a Mutton Ham.

A hind quarter must be cut into the shape of a ham: rub into it the following mixture: ¼ lb. saltpetre, ¼ lb. bay salt, 1 lb. common salt, and ¼ lb. loaf sugar; rub well, every other day, for a fortnight, then take it out, press it under a weight for one day, then hang it to smoke ten or fifteen days. It will require long soaking, if kept any length of time, before it is dressed. Boil very gently, three hours. It is eaten cut in slices, and these broiled for breakfast or lunch.—Or; the ham smoked longer, not boiled, but slices very thinly shaved to eat by way of relish at breakfast.

To pickle Pork.

For a hog of 10 score.—When it is quite cold, and cut up in pieces, have well mixed 2 gallons of common salt, and 1½ lb. of saltpetre; with this, rub well each piece of pork, and as you rub, pack it in a salting tub, and sprinkle salt between each layer. Put a heavy weight on the top of the cover, to prevent the meat's swimming. If kept close and tight in this way, it will keep for a year or two.

Leg of Pork.

Proceed as above, salt in proportion, but leave out the saltpetre if you choose. The hand and spring also, in the same way—and a week sufficient for either. Rub and turn them every day.

Pig's Head in the same way, but it will require two weeks.

To pickle a Tongue.

Rub the tongue over with common salt; and cut a slit in the root, so that the salt may penetrate. Drain the tongue next day, and rub it over with 2 oz. of bay salt, 2 oz. of saltpetre, and 2 oz. of lump or coarse sugar, all mixed together. This pickle should be poured over the tongue, with a spoon, every day, as there will not be sufficient liquor to cover it. It will be ready to dress in three weeks or a month.

To salt Beef.

Be sure to take out the kernels, and also be sure to fill up the holes with salt, as well as those which the butcher's skewers have made. In frosty weather, take care that the meat be not frozen; also, to warm the salt before the fire, or in a frying pan.

For a piece of 20 lb. weight.—Sprinkle the meat with salt, and let it lie twenty-four hours; then hang it up to drain. Take 1 oz. of saltpetre, a ½ oz. of salt prunella, a ¼ lb. of very coarse sugar, 6 oz. of common salt, all finely powdered, and rub it well into the beef. Rub and turn it every day. It will be ready to dress in ten days, but may be kept longer.

To salt a Round of Beef.

For one of 30 lb. weight.—Rub common salt well into it all over and in every part, cover it well with salt: rub it well next day, pouring the brine over the meat. Repeat this every day for a fortnight, when it will be ready. Let it drain for 15 minutes, when you are going to cook it. You may, if you wish it to look red, add 4 oz. salt prunel, and 1 lb. saltpetre to the pickle.

An Edge Bone.

To one of 10 or 12 lb. weight allow ¾ lb. of salt, and 1 oz. of moist sugar. Rub these well into the meat. Repeat the rubbing every day, turning the meat also, and it will be ready to dress in four or five days.

Tongue Beef.

After the tongues are taken out of the pickle, wash and wipe dry a piece of flank or brisket of beef; sprinkle with salt, and let it lie a night; then hang it to drain, rub in a little fresh salt, and put the beef into the pickle; rub and turn it every day for three or four days, and it will be ready to dress, and if the pickle have been previously well prepared, will be found to have a very fine flavour.

To smoke Beef.

Cut a round into pieces of 5 lb. weight each, and salt them very well; when sufficiently salted, hang the pieces in a wood-smoke chimney to dry, and let them hang three or four weeks. This may be grated, for breakfast or luncheon. Another.—Cut a leg of beef like a ham, and to one of 14 lb. make a pickle of 1 lb. salt, 1 lb. brown sugar, 1 oz. saltpetre, and 1 oz. bay salt. Rub and turn the ham every day for a month, then roll it in bran and smoke it. Hang it in a dry place. Broil it in slices.

To make pickle for Brawn.

To rather more than a sufficient quantity of water to cover it, put 7 or 8 handsful of bran, a few bay leaves, also salt enough to give a strong relish; boil this an hour and a half, then strain it. When cold, pour the pickle from the sediment into a pan, and put the meat into it.

Any of these pickles may be used again. First boil it up and take off all the scum.

THE SEASONS FOR MEAT, POULTRY, GAME, AND VEGETABLES.

It is always the best plan to deal with a respectable butcher, and to keep to the same one. He will find his interest in providing his regular customers with good meat, and the best is always the cheapest, even though it may cost a little more money.

Beef is best and cheapest from Michaelmas to Midsummer.

Veal is best and cheapest from March to July.

Mutton is best from Christmas to Midsummer.

Grass Lamb is best from Easter to June.

House Lamb comes in in February.

Poultry is in the greatest perfection, when it is in the greatest plenty, which it is about September.

Chickens come in the beginning of April, but they may be had all the year round.

Fowls are dearest in April, May, and June, but they may be had all the year round, and are cheapest in September, October, and November.

Capons are finest at Christmas.

Poulards, with eggs, come in in March.

Green Geese come in in March, and continue till September.

Geese are in full season in September, and continue till February.

Turkey Poults come in in April, and continue till June.

Turkeys are in season from September till March, and are cheapest in October and November.

Ducks are in season from June till February.

Wild Ducks, Widgeons, Teal, Plovers, Pintails, Larks, Snipes, Woodcocks, from the end of October till the end of March.

Tame Pigeons are in season all the year, Wild Pigeons from March till September.

Pea-Fowl (young ones) from January till June.

Partridges from 1st September till January.

Pheasants from 1st October till January.

Grouse from the 12th of August till Christmas, also Black Cocks and Grey Hens.

Guinea Fowls from the end of January till May; their eggs are much more delicate than common ones.

Hares from September to March.

Leverets from March to September.

Rabbits all the year round.

Fish.

The seasons of Fish frequently vary; therefore the surest way to have it good is to confide in the honesty of respectable fishmongers; unless, indeed, you are well acquainted with the several sorts, and have frequent practice in the choosing of it. No fish when out of season can be wholesome food.

Turbot is in season from September to May. Fish of this kind do not all spawn at the same time; therefore, there are good as well as bad all the year round. The finest are brought from the Dutch coast. The belly of a Turbot should be cream coloured, and upon pressing your finger on this part, it should spring up. A Turbot eats the better for being kept two or three days. Where there is any apprehension of its not keeping, a little salt may be sprinkled on it, and the fish hung in a cool dry place.

Salmon.—This favourite fish is the most unwholesome of all. It ought never to be eaten unless perfectly fresh, and in season. Salmon is in season from Christmas till September. The Severn Salmon, indeed, is in season in November, but it is then obtained only in small quantities. This, and the Thames Salmon, are considered the best. That which comes from Scotland, packed in ice, is not so good. Salmon Peel are very nice flavoured, but much less rich than large Salmon; come in June.

Cod is in perfection at Christmas; but it comes in, generally, in October; in the months of February and March it is poor, but in April and May it becomes finer. The Dogger Bank Cod are considered the best. Good Cod fish are known by the yellow spots on a pure white skin. In cold weather they will keep a day or two.

Skate, Haddocks, Soles, Plaice, and Flounders are in season in January, as well as Smelts and Prawns. In February, Lobsters and Herrings become more plentiful; Haddocks not in such good flavour as they were. In March Salmon becomes plentiful, but is still dear. And in this month the John Dory comes in.

In April Smelts and Whiting are plentiful; and Mackerel and Mullet come in; also river Trout.

In May Oysters go out of season, and Cod becomes not so good; excepting these, all the fish that was in season at Christmas, is in perfection in this month.

In June Salmon, Turbot, Brill, Skate, Halibut, Lobsters, Crabs, Prawns, Soles, Eels and Whiting are plentiful and cheap. Middling sized Lobsters are best, and must weigh heavy to be good. The best Crabs measure about eight inches across the shoulders. The silver eel is the best, and, next to that, the copper-brown backed eel. A humane method of putting this fish to death is to run a sharp-pointed skewer or fine knitting needle into the spinal marrow, through the back part of the skin, and life will instantly cease.

In July fish of all sorts plentiful, except Oysters, and about at the cheapest. Cod not in much estimation.

In the months of August and September, particularly the former, fish is considered more decidedly unwholesome than at any other time of the year, and more especially in London. Oysters come in, and Turbot and Salmon go out of season. In choosing Oysters, natives are best; they should be eaten as soon after they are opened as possible. There are various ways of keeping and feeding oysters, for which see Index.

In October Cod comes in good season, also Haddocks, Brill, Tench, and every sort of shell fish.

In November most sorts of fish are to be got, but all are dear. Oysters are excellent in this month.

Fresh Herrings from November to January.

River Eels all the year.

Red Mullet come in May.

Flounders and Plaice in June.

Sprats beginning of November.

Gurnet is best in the spring.

Sturgeon in June.

Yarmouth Mackerel from May till August.

Vegetables.

Artichokes are in season from July to October.

Jerusalem Artichokes from September till June.

Asparagus, forced, may be obtained in January; the natural growth, it comes in about the middle of April, and continues through May, June, and July.

French Beans, forced, may be obtained in February, of the natural growth, the beginning of July; and they continue in succession through August.

Red Beet is in season all the year.

Scotch Cale in November.

Brocoli in October.

Cabbage of most sorts in May, June, July, and August.

Cardoons from November till March.

Carrots come in in May.

Cauliflowers, the beginning of June.

Celery, the beginning of September.

Corn Salad, in May.

Cucumbers may be forced as early as March; of their natural growth they come in July, and are plentiful in August and September.

Endive comes in in June, and continues through the winter.

Leeks come in in September, and continue till the Spring.

Lettuce, both the Coss and the Cabbage, come in about April, and continue to the end of August.

Onions, for keeping, in August.

Parsley, all the year.

Parsnips come in in October; but they are not good until the frost has touched them.

Peas, the earliest forced, come in about the beginning of May; of their natural growth, about the beginning of June, and continue till the end of August.

Potatoes, forced, in the beginning of March; and the earliest of natural growth in May.

Radishes, about the beginning of March.

Small Salad, in May and June; but may be had all the year.

Salsify and Scorzonera, in July and August.

Sea Kale may be found as early as December or January, but of the natural growth it comes in in April and May.

Eschalots, for keeping, in August and three following months.

Spring Spinach, in March, April, and three following months.

Winter Spinach from October through the winter.

Turnips, of the garden, in May; but the field Turnips, which are best, in October.

CHAPTER V.

THE KITCHEN.

The benefit of a good kitchen is well known to every housekeeper, but it is not every mistress that is aware of the importance of having a good cook. I have seen kitchens which, though fitted up with every convenience, and certainly at considerable expense, yet failed to send forth good dinners, merely because the lady of the house was not happy in her choice of a cook. I do not in the least admire gourmands, or gourmandism; and yet I would be more particular in selecting the servant who is to perform the business of preparing the food of the family, than I should deem it necessary to be in selecting any of the other servants. In large establishments there is a greater quantity of cookery to be performed, and, consequently, a greater quantity of waste is likely to be caused by unskilful cooks, than there can be in small families; but even in the latter considerable waste may be the consequence of saving a few pounds a year in the wages of a cook. An experienced cook knows the value of the articles submitted to her care; and she knows how to turn many things to account which a person unacquainted with cooking would throw away. A good cook knows how to convert the remains of one dinner into various dishes to form the greater part of another dinner; and she will, also, be more capable than the other of forwarding her mistress's charitable intentions; for her capability in cooking will enable her to take advantage of everything which can be spared from the consumption of the family, to be converted into nourishing food for the poor, for those of her own class who have not the comfort of a home such as she herself enjoys. The cook who knows how to preserve the pot-liquor of fresh meat to make soup, will, whenever she boils mutton, fowls, or rabbits, &c., &c., carefully scum it, and, by adding peas, other vegetables, or crusts of bread, and proper seasonings, make some tolerable soup for poor people, out of materials which would otherwise be thrown away.

To be a good cook she must take pleasure in her occupation; for the requisite painstaking cannot be expected from a person who dislikes the fire, or who entertains a disgust for the various processes necessary to convert meat into savoury dishes. But a cook who takes pride in sending a dinner well dressed to table, may be depended upon, and that is of great importance to the mistress of a house: for though Englishmen may not be such connoisseurs in eating as Frenchmen, I question whether French husbands are more dissatisfied with a badly-cooked dinner than English husbands are. Dr. Kitchener observes, "God sends us victuals, but who sends us cooks?" And the observation is not confined to the Doctor, for the walls of many a dining-room have echoed it, to the great discomfiture of the lady presiding at the head of the table. Ladies might, if they would, be obliged to confess that many ill humours had been occasioned by either under or over roasted meat, cold plates, or blunt knives; and perhaps these are grounds for complaint. Of the same importance as the cooking is neatness in serving the dinner, for there is a vast difference in its appearance if neatly and properly arranged in hot dishes, the vegetables and sauces suitable to the meat, and hot—there is a vast difference between a dinner so served, and one a part of which is either too much or too little cooked, the meat parting from the bone in one case, or looking as if barely warmed through in the other case; the gravy chilled and turning to grease, some of the vegetables watery, and others crisped, while the edges of the dishes are slopped, and the block-tin covers look dull. A leg of mutton or piece of beef, either boiled or roasted—so commonly the dinner of a plain-living family—requires as much skill and nicety as the most complicated made dishes; and a plain dinner well cooked and served is as tempting to the appetite as it is creditable to the mistress of the house, who invariably suffers in the estimation of her guests for the want of ability in her servants. The elegance of the drawing-room they have just left is forgotten by those who are suffocating from the over-peppered soup; and the coldness of the plate on which is handed a piece of turbot bearing a reddish hue, may hold a place in the memory of a visitor, to the total obliteration of the winning graces, and agreeable conversation, of the lady at the head of the table.

It is impossible to give particular directions for fitting up a kitchen, because so much must depend upon the number of servants, and upon what is required in the way of cookery. It was the fashion formerly to adorn it with a quantity of copper saucepans, stewpans, &c., &c., very expensive, and troublesome to keep clean. Many of these articles, which were regularly scoured once a week, were not, perhaps, used once in the year. A young lady ought, if she has a good cook, to be guided by her, in some measure, in the purchase of kitchen utensils; for the accommodation of the cook, if she be a reasonable person, ought to be consulted. But, where there is no kitchen-maid to clean them, the fewer coppers and tins the better. It is the best plan to buy, at first, only just enough for use, and to replace these with new ones as they wear out; but all stewpans, saucepans, frying-pans, &c., &c., should be kept in good order—that is to say, clean and in good repair.

Some of the best cooks say that iron and block tin answer every purpose. There is an useful, but somewhat expensive, article, called the Bain-marie, for heating made dishes and soups, and keeping them hot for any length of time, without over-cooking them. A Bain-marie will be found very useful to persons who are in the habit of having made dishes. A braising kettle and a stock-pot also; and two or three cast-iron Digesters, of from one to two gallons, for soups and gravies. Saucepans should be washed and scoured as soon as possible after they have been used: wood ashes, or very fine sand, may be used. They should be rinsed in clean water, wiped dry (or they will rust), and then be turned down on a clean shelf. The upper rim may be kept bright, but it seems labour lost to scour that part where the fire reaches; besides which, the more they are scoured the more quickly they wear out. Copper utensils must be well tinned, or they become poisonous. Never allow anything to be put by in a copper vessel; but the fatal consequences of neglect in this particular are too well known for it to be necessary here to say much in the way of caution.

The fire-place is a matter of great importance. I have not witnessed the operations of many of the steam cooking apparatuses, which the last thirty years have produced, but the few I have seen do not give me satisfaction. It is certainly desirable that every possible saving should be made in the consumption of coals; but it is not possible to have cooking in perfection, without a proper degree of heat; and, as far as my observation has gone, meat cannot be well roasted unless before a good fire. I should save in many things rather than in coals; and am often puzzled to account for the false economy which leads persons to be sparing of their fuel, whilst they are lavish in other things infinitely less essential. A cook has many trials of her temper, but none so difficult to bear as the annoyance of a bad fire; for she cannot cook her dinner well, however much she may fret herself in the endeavour; and the waste caused by spoiling meat, fish, poultry, game, &c., is scarcely made up for by saving a few shillings in coals. "Economy in fuel" is so popular, that every species of invention is resorted to, in order to go without fire; and the price of coals is talked of in a fine drawing room, where the shivering guest turns, and often in vain, to seek comfort from the fire, which, alas! the brightly polished grate does not contain. The beauty of the cold marble structure which rises above it, and is reflected in the opposite mirror, is a poor compensation for the want of warmth. I advise young housekeepers to bear in mind, that of the many things which may be saved in a house, without lessening its comforts, firing is not one.

It is best to lay in coals in the month of August or September, to last until the spring. They should be of the best kind; paid for in ready money, to prevent an additional charge for credit. The first year of housekeeping will give a pretty correct average to go by: and then the consumption should be watched, but not too rigidly.

To return to the fire-place.—Perhaps there is no apparatus more convenient for a family of moderate style of living than the common kitchen range, that which has a boiler for hot water on one side, and an oven on the other side. It is a great convenience to have a constant supply of hot water, and an advantage to possess the means of baking a pie, pudding, or cake; and this may always be done, when there is a large fire for boiling or roasting. There is a great difference in the construction of these little ovens. We have had several, and only three which answered; and these were all, I believe, by different makers.—A Hot plate is also an excellent thing, as it requires but little fire to keep it sufficiently hot for any thing requiring gradual cooking; and is convenient for making preserves, which should never be exposed to the fierceness of a fire. The charcoal stoves are useful, and so easily constructed that a kitchen should not be without one. There is a very nice thing, called a Dutch Stove, but I do not know whether it is much in use in England. On a rather solid frame-work, with four legs, about a foot from the ground, is raised a round brick-work, open at the top sufficiently deep to receive charcoal, and in the front, a little place to take out the ashes; on the top is a trivet, upon which the stew-pan, or preserving-pan, or whatever it may be, is placed. This is easily moved about, and in the summer could be placed anywhere in the cool, and would, therefore, be very convenient for making preserves.—Where there is much cooking, a Steamer is convenient; it may be attached to the boiler of the range. I have seen lamb and mutton which had been steamed, and which in appearance was more delicate than when boiled, and equally well flavoured. But there is an uncertainty in cooking meat by steam, and, besides, there is no liquor for soup. Puddings cook well by steam.—The Jack is an article of great consequence, and also a troublesome one, being frequently out of repair. A Bottle-jack answers very well for a small family; and where there is a good meat screen (which is indispensable), a stout nail and a skein of worsted will, provided the cook be not called away from the kitchen, be found to answer the purpose of a spit.

There are now so many excellent weighing-machines, of simple construction, that there ought to be one in every kitchen, to weigh joints of meat as they come from the butcher, and this will enable the cook to weigh flour, butter, sugar, spices, &c., &c.

The cook should be allowed a sufficiency of kitchen cloths and brushes, suitable to her work. Plates and dishes will not look clear and bright unless rinsed in clean water, after they are washed, then drained, and wiped dry with a cloth which is not greasy. A handful of bran in the water will produce a fine polish on crockery ware.

As they do not cost much, there need be no hesitation to allow plenty of jelly-bags, straining cloths, tapes, &c. &c. These should be very clean, and scalded in hot water before they are used.

There should be a table in the middle of the kitchen, or so situated as not to be exposed to a current of air, to arrange the dishes upon, that blunders may not be committed in placing them upon the dining-table. Much of the pleasure which the lady at the head of her table may feel at seeing her guests around her, is destroyed by the awkward mistakes of servants in waiting; who, when they discover that they have done wrong, frequently become too frightened and confused to repair the error they have committed.

The cook in a small family should have charge of the beer; and where there are no men servants, it should be rather good than weak, for the better in quality, the more care will be taken of it. When more is drawn than is wanted, a burnt crust will keep it fresh from one meal to another, but for a longer time it should be put into a bottle, and corked close; it would be well for the cook to keep a few different sized bottles, so that the beer may not stand to become flat before she bottle it.

A clock, in or near the kitchen, will tend to promote punctuality. But the lady herself should see to its being regulated, or this piece of furniture may do more harm than good. There is nothing fitter to be under lock and key than the clock, for, however true to time, when not interfered with, it is often made to bear false testimony. That good understanding which sometimes subsists between the clock and the cook, and which is brought about by the instrumentality of a broom-handle, or some such magic, should be noted by every prudent housekeeper as one of the things to be guarded against.

The kitchen chimney should be frequently swept; besides which, the cook should, once or twice a week, sweep it as far as she can reach; for where there are large fires in old houses, accidents sometimes occur; and the falling of ever so little soot will sometimes spoil a dinner.

Every lady ought to make a receipt-book for herself. Neither my receipts nor those of any cookery book can be supposed to give equal satisfaction to every palate. After performing any piece of cookery according to the directions given in a book, a person of common intelligence would be able to discover whatever was displeasing to the taste, and easily alter the receipt, and so enter it in her own book that the cook could not err in following it. This plan would be found to save much trouble.

As soon after breakfast as she conveniently can, the mistress of a house should repair to the kitchen; which ought to be swept, the fire-place cleaned, tea-kettles, coffee-pots, and anything else used in preparing the breakfast, put in their appropriate places, and the cook ready to receive her orders for the day. Without being parsimonious, the mistress should see, with her own eyes, every morning, whatever cold meat, remains of pastry, bread, butter, &c., &c., there may be in the larder, that she may be able to judge of the additional provision required. Having done that, she should proceed to the store-room, to give the cook, the housemaid, and others, such stores as they may require for the day. This will occupy but very little time, if done regularly every morning; and having done this, she should proceed to make her purchases at once, lest visitors, or any accidental circumstance, cause her to be late in her marketing, and so derange the regularity of the dinner hour, the servants' work, &c., &c. Many ladies, in consequence of their own ill health, or that of their children, are compelled to employ their servants to market for them; but when they can avoid doing so it is better. I do not say this from a suspicion that either tradespeople or servants are always likely to take advantage of an opportunity to impose upon their customers or their employers, but because this important part of household management ought to be conducted by some one of the family, who must necessarily be more interested in it than servants can be. Besides, more judgment is required in marketing than all servants possess. A servant, for instance, is sent to a fishmonger's for a certain quantity of fish, and she obeys the order given her and brings home the fish, but at a higher price, perhaps, than her mistress expected. Now if the lady had gone herself, and found that the weather, or any other circumstance, had raised the price of fish for that day, she would probably have made a less expensive one suit her purpose, or turned to the Butcher or Poulterer to supply her table. Also it is a hindrance to a servant to be sent here and there during the early part of the day, not to mention the benefit which the lady of the house would derive by being compelled to be out of doors, and in exercise, for even a short time, every day.

Although I like French cookery, I am not sufficiently acquainted with the interior of French kitchens to know whether we should improve in the fitting up of ours by imitating our neighbours. When I was abroad, and had opportunities of informing myself upon this subject, I had not the present work in contemplation. And though it is the object of travellers in general to inquire into almost every thing while passing through a foreign country, it happened once to me to meet with so much discouragement, when prying into the culinary department of a large Hotel in the south of France, that I hesitated to enter a foreign kitchen again. I was then on the way to Italy, and from what was afterwards told me respecting the kitchens of the latter country, I have reason to think that my resolution was not unwise, since, had it been overcome by fresh curiosity, I might have been induced to starve from too intimate knowledge of the mode in which the dishes of our table were prepared. We had, at the hotel I am speaking of, fared sumptuously for three days. There were, among other things, the finest poultry and the most delicate pastry imaginable. But some chicken broth was wanted for an invalid of our party, and the landlord suggested that if Mademoiselle would herself give directions to the cook, the broth might, perhaps, be the better made; and he went, accordingly, to announce my intended visit to the important person who commanded in the kitchen. Upon receiving intimation that all was ready, I descended, and was introduced to the said cook, who met me at the door of a large, lofty, vaulted apartment, the walls of which were black, not from any effect of antiquity, but from those of modern smoke, and decorated with a variety of copper utensils, all nearly as black on their outsides as the walls on which they hung. Of what hue their insides might be I did not ascertain; and, at the moment, my attention was suddenly diverted by the cook, who, begging me to be seated, placed a chair by the side of a large, wild-looking fire-place. I had not expected to see a tall, thin and bony, or a short and fat woman, like the cook of an English kitchen; I imagined a man, somewhat advanced in age, and retaining some traces of the ancien regime, with large features and a small body, with grizzly and half-powdered hair, and, perhaps, a pigtail; at all events, with slippers down at heel, hands unclean, and a large snuff-box. It was, therefore, not without surprise that I found the very contrary of this in the personage who, dressed in a white apron, white sleeves, and white night cap of unexceptionable cleanness, and bowing with a grace that would have done credit to the most accomplished petit maître of the last century, proceeded to relate how he had been instructed in the art of making chicken broth by an English Miledi, who in passing into Italy for the benefit of her health, had staid some weeks at the Hotel de l'Europe. His detail of the process of broth-making was minute, and no doubt scientific, but unhappily for the narrator, it was interrupted by his producing a delicate white fowl, which he without ceremony laid on the kitchen table, which stood in the middle of the room, and rivalled the very walls themselves in blackness. I was assured, by the first glance at this table, by reason of the fragments of fish, fowl, and pastry, strewed over it, that the same piece of furniture served every purpose of chopping-block and paste-board. When, therefore, under these circumstances, I saw the preparation for the broth just going to commence, the exclamation of "Dirty pigs!" was making its way to my lips, and I, in order to avoid outraging the ears of French politeness, in the spot of all France most famous for the romantic, made the best of my way out of the kitchen, and endeavoured, when the next dinner-time arrived, to forget that I had ever seen it. Whenever afterwards the figure of this black table appeared to my fancy, like a spectre rising to warn me against tasteful and delicate looking entremets, I strove to forget the reality; but I never recovered the feeling of perfect security in what I was about to eat until the sea again rolled between me and the kitchen of the Hotel de l'Europe, and I again actually saw the clear bright fire, the whitened hearth, the yellow-ochred walls, the polished tins, the clean-scrubbed tables and chairs, and the white dresser cloths, of the kitchen, such as I had always been used to see at my own home.

CHAPTER VI.

JOINTING, TRUSSING, AND CARVING.

Below will be found the figures of the five larger animals, followed by a reference to each, by which the reader, who is not already experienced, may observe the names of all the principal joints, as well as the part of the animal from which the joint is cut. No book that I am acquainted with, except that of Mrs. Rundell, has taken any notice of this subject, though it is a matter of considerable importance, and one as to which many a young housekeeper often wishes for information.

Venison.

Beef.

Mutton.

Note. A Chine is two Loins; and a Saddle is two Loins, and two Necks of the Best End.

Veal.

Pork.

Cod's Head.—Fig. 1.

Cod's Head (Fig. 1) is a dish in carving which you have nothing to study beyond that preference for particular parts of the fish which some persons entertain. The solid parts are helped by cutting through with the fish trowel from a to b and from c to d, and so on, from the jaw-bone to the further end of the shoulder. The sound lies on the inside, and to obtain this, you must raise up the thin part of the fish, near the letter e.—This dish never looks so well as when served dry, and the fish on a napkin neatly folded, and garnished with sprigs of parsley.

Haunch of Venison.—Fig. 2.

Haunch of Venison is cut (as in Fig. 2.) first in the line a to b. This first cut is the means of getting much of the gravy of the joint. Then turning the dish longwise towards him, the carver should put the knife in at c, and cut, as deep as the bone will allow, to d, and take out slices on either side of the line in this direction. The fat of venison becomes cold so very rapidly, that it is advisable, when convenient, to have some means of giving it renewed warmth after the joint comes to table. For this purpose, some use water plates, which have the effect of rendering the meat infinitely nicer than it would be in a half chilled state.

Haunch of Mutton is carved in the same way as Venison.

Saddle of Mutton.—Fig. 3.

Saddle of Mutton. This is prepared for roasting as in Fig. 3, the tail being split in two, each half twisted back, and skewered, with one of the kidneys enclosed. You carve this by cutting, in straight lines, on each side of the backbone, as from a to b, from c to d. If the saddle be a fine one, there will be fat on every part of it; but there is always more on the sides (ee) than in the centre.

Edge Bone of Beef.—Fig. 4.

Edge Bone of Beef, like the Round of Beef, is easily carved. But care should be taken, with both of these, to carve neatly; for if the meat be cut in thick slices or in pieces of awkward shape, the effect will be both to cause waste and to render the dish, while it lasts, uninviting. Cut slices, as thin as you please, from a to b (Fig. 4). The best part of the fat will be found on one side of the meat, from about c to d. The most delicate is at c.

Fore Quarter of Lamb.—Fig. 5.

Fore Quarter of Lamb is first to be cut so as to divide the shoulder from the rest of the quarter, which is called the target. For this purpose, put the fork firmly into the shoulder joint, and then cut underneath the blade-bone beginning at a (Fig. 5), and continue all round in the direction of a circular line, and pretty close to the under part of the blade-bone. Some people like to cut the shoulder large, while others take off no more meat with it than is barely necessary to remove the blade-bone. It is most convenient to place the shoulder on a separate dish. This is carved in the same way as the shoulder of mutton. (See Fig. 7.) When the shoulder is removed, a lemon may be squeezed over that part of the remainder of the joint where the knife had passed: this gives a flavour to the meat which is generally approved.—Then, proceed to cut completely through from b to c, following the line across the bones as cracked by the butcher; and this will divide the ribs (d) from the brisket (e). Tastes vary in giving preference to the ribs or to the brisket.

Leg of Mutton.—Fig. 6.

Leg of Mutton, either boiled or roasted, is carved as in Fig. 6. You begin, by taking slices from the most meaty part, which is done by making cuts straight across the joint, and quite down to the bone (a, b), and thus continuing on towards the thick end, till you come to c, the cramp-bone (or, as some call it, the edge-bone). Some mutton is superfluously fat on every part of the leg. The most delicate fat, however, is always that which is attached to the outside, about the thick end. After cutting as above directed, turn the joint over, and cut longwise the leg, as with a haunch of venison (see Fig. 1). Some people like the knuckle, that part which lies to the right of b, though this is always the driest and the leanest. A few nice slices may be taken at d, by cutting across that end: these are not juicy, but the grain of the meat is fine; and here there is also some nice fat.

Shoulder of Mutton.—Fig. 7.

Shoulder of Mutton.—Cut first from a to b (Fig. 7) as deep as the bone will permit, and take out slices on each side of this line. Then cut in a line with and on both sides of the ridges of the blade-bone, which will be found running in the direction c to d. The meat of this part is some of the most delicate, but there is not much of it. You may get some nice slices between e and f, though these will sometimes be very fat. Turn the joint over, and take slices from the flat surface of the under part: these are the coarsest, yet some think the best.—In small families it is sometimes the practice to cut the under side while hot; this leaves the joint better looking for the next day.

Ham.—Fig. 8.

Ham is generally cut by making a deep incision across the top of it, as from a to b, and down to the bone. Those who like the knuckle end, which is the most lean and dry, may cut towards c; but the prime part of the ham is that between a and the thick end. Some prefer carving hams with a more slanting cut, beginning in a direction as from a to c, and so continuing throughout to the thick end. The slanting mode is, however, apt to be very wasteful, unless the carver be careful not to take away too much fat in proportion to the lean.

Sucking Pig should always be cut up by the cook; at least, the principal parts should be divided before the dish is served. First, take off the head immediately behind the ears: then cut the body in two, by carrying the knife quite through from the neck to the tail. The legs and the shoulders must next be removed from the sides, and each of them cut in two at their respective joints. The sides may either be sent to table whole, or cut up: if the latter, separate the whole length of each side into three or four pieces. The head should be split in two, and the lower jaws divided from the upper part of it; let the ears be cut off. In serving, a neat cook will take care to arrange the different parts thus separated so that they may appear, upon the dish, as little uneven and confused as possible. The sides, whether whole or in several pieces, should be laid parallel with each other; the legs and shoulders on the outer side of these, and opposite to the parts to which they have respectively belonged; and the portions of the head, and the ears, may be placed, some at one end, and some at the other end, or, as taste may suggest, at the sides of the dish.

Hare, or Rabbit, for Roasting.—Fig. 9.