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way, but many people omit the seasoning.

TO BOIL PEAS.

Peas should not be shelled long before they are wanted, nor boiled in much water; when the water boils, put them in, with a little salt and a lump of loaf-sugar; when they begin to dent in the middle, they are done enough; strain them through a cullender or sieve, put a piece of butter into the dish, and stir them till the butter is melted; boil a sprig of mint by itself, chop it fine, and lay it round the edge of the dish: some prefer melted butter sent to table in a sauce tureen, rather than mixing it with the peas in the dish. The mint may be boiled with the peas, which many people prefer.

iTO BOIL MACKAREL.

Rub them with vinegar; when the water boils, put them in with a little salt, and boil them gently a quarter of an hour; serve them up with fennel and parsley boiled, chopped, and put into melted butter, and gooseberrysauce, in tureens.

TO FRY OR BROIL MACKAREL.

They may be fried or broiled, and are very good stuffed with breadcrumbs, chopped parsley, grated lemon-peel, pepper, salt, and nutmeg, mixed with the yolk of an egg; serve them up with anchovy-sauce and fennel-sauce. They are very good split open, the heads cut off, peppered, hung up for four or five hours, and then broiled. Make the sauce of fennel and parsley, scalded, chopped fine, and mixed with melted butter.

DOMESTIC MEDICINE.

SWALLOWING SNAILS FOR CONSUMP TION OF THE LUNGS. This can be of no possible use. The disease is in the lungs; and snails cannot so alter the chyle which forms the blood, as to have any specific effect upon the ulceration in the lungs.

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GREAT PECUNIARY ADVANTAGES OF EARLY RISING.

To the Editor of The Economist. SIR;-I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new lamp of was introduced, and much admired for its splendor; but a general inquiry was made, whether the oil it consumed was not in proportion to the light it afforded, in which case there would be no saving in the use of it. No one present could satisfy us in that point, which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expense was so much augmented.

I was pleased, Mr. Editor, to see, this general concern for economy; for I love economy exceedingly.

I went home and to bed three or four hours after midnight, with my head full of the subject. An accidental sudden noise waked me about six in the morning, when I was surprised to find my room filled with light; and I imagined at first that a

number of those lamps had been ́ brought into it; but, rubbing my eyes, I perceived the light came in at the windows. I got up and looked out, to see what might be the occasion of it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, from whence he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my servant having negligently omitted, the preceding evening, to close the shutters.

I looked at my watch (which goes very well), and found that it was but six o'clock; and still thinking it something extraordinary that the sun should rise so early, I looked into the almanac, where I found it to be the hour given for his rising on that day. I looked forward, too, and found he was to rise still earlier every day. till towards the end of June; and that at no time of the year he retarded his rising so long as till eight o'clock. Those who with me have never seen any signs of sun-shine before noon, and seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanac, will be as much astonished as I was when they hear of his rising so early, and especially when I assure them that he gives light as soon as he rises. I am convinced of this. I am certain of the fact. I saw it with my own eyes, Mr. Editor; and, having repeated this observation the three following mornings, I found always precisely the same result.

This event has given rise in my mind to several serious and important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six hours longer by the light of the sun, and in exchange have lived six hours the following night by candlelight; and the latter being a much more expensive light than the former, my love of economy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I was master of, and to make some calculations, which I shall give you, after observing that utility is, in my opinion, the test of value in matters of invention, and that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is not good for something, is good for nothing.

I took for the basis of my. calcu lation the supposition that there are 200,000 families in London, and that these families consume in the night half a pound of candles per hour-a moderate allowance, taking one family with another;-for though some use less, many consume a great deal. more. Then estimating 7 hours per day as the medium quantity between the time of the sun's rising and ours, he rising during the six following months from six to eight hours before noon, and there being seven hours, of course, per night in which we burn candles, the account will stand thus :

In the six months between the 20th of March and the 20th of

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Two hundred and fifty-six millions and two hundred thousand hours spent in London by candle-light, which, at half a pound of wax or tallow per hour, give the weight

One hundred and twenty-eight millions and one hundred thousand of pounds, which, estimated at the lowest price of tallow-candles, 8d. per lb., makes the sum of FOUR MILLIONS AND TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THOUSAND POUTNDS STERLING !

...

128,100,000

An inmense sum! that the city of London might save every year by the economy of using sun-shine instead of candle-light.

If it should be said, that people are apt to be obstinately attached to old customs, that it will be difficult

to induce them to rise so early, and conequently that my discovery and calculation can be of little use, I answer, Nil desperandum. I believe all who have common sense, so soon as they shall have learnt from this paper that it is day-light when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with him; and to compel the rest, I shall, in my next communication, propose some salutary regulations. I am, &c.

THE SPIRIT OF FRANKLIN.

ANNALS OF GULLING. No III.

[The Mather and Co. Bill Humbug must yet be deferred a Week.]

CRUSTING OF WINE-BOTTLES, AND OTHER NEFARIOUS ARTIFICES COMMITTED BY FRAUDULENT

WINE-MERCHANTS.

The particular and separate department in this factitious wine trade, called crusting, consists of lining the inferior surface of empty wine-bottles, in part with a red crust of supertartrate of potash, by suffering a saturated hot solution of this salt, coloured red with a decoction of Brazilwood, to crystallize within them; and after this simulation of maturity is perfected, they are filled with the compound called Port Wine.

Other artisans are regularly employed in staining the lower extremities of bottle-corks with a fine red colour, to appear on being drawn, as if they had been long in contact with the wine.

The preparation of an astringent extract, to produce, from spoiled home-made and foreign wines, a "genuine old Port," by mere admixture; or to impart to a weak wine a rough austere taste, a fine colour, and. a. peculiar flavour, forms one

branch of the business of particular wine-coopers, while the mellowing and restoring of spoiled white wines, is the sole occupation of men who are called refiners of wine.

We have stated that a crystalline crust is formed on the interior surface of bottles, for the purpose of misleading the unwary into a belief that the wine contained in them is of a certain age. A correspondent opera tion is performed on the wooden cask; the whole interior of which is stained artificially with a crystalline crust of super-tartrate of potash, artfully affixed in a manner precisely similar to that before stated. Thus the winemerchant, after bottling off a pipe of wine, is enabled to impose on the understanding of his customers, by taking to pieces the cask, and exhibiting the beautiful dark coloured and fine crystalline crust, as an indubitable proof of the age of the wine; a prac tice by no means uncommon, to flatter the vanity of those who pride themselves in their acute discriminations of wines.

These and many other sophistica tions, which have long been practised with impunity, are considered as legitimate by those who pride themselves for their skill in the art of managing, or, according to the familiar phrase, doctoring wines. The plea alleged in exculpation of them, is, that, though deceptive, they are harmless; but even admitting this as a palliation, yet they form only one department of an art which includes other pro.cesses of a tendency absolutely criminal.

Several well-authenticated facts have convinced me that the adulteration of wine with substances deleterious to health, is certainly practised oftener than is perhaps suspected; and it would be easy to give some instances of very serious effects having arisen from wines contaminated with deleterious substances, were this a subject on which I meant to speak. The following statement is copied from the Monthly Magazine for March 1811, p. 188:

"On the 17th of January, the pas sengers by the Highflyer coach, from the North, dined, as usual, at New

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ark. A bottle of Port wine was ordered; on tasting which, one of the passengers observed that it had an unpleasant flavour, and begged that it might be changed. The waiter took away the bottle, poured into a fresh decanter half the wine which had heen objected to, and filled it up from another bottle. This he took into the room, and the greater part was drank by the passengers, who, after the coach had set out towards Grantham, were seized with extreme sickness; one gentleman in particular, who had taken more of the wine than the others, it was thought would have died, but has since recovered. The half of the bottle of wine sent out of the passengers' room was put aside for the purpose of mixing negus. In the evening, Mr. Bland, of Newark, went into the hotel, and drank a glass or two of wine and water. He returned home at his usual hour and went to bed; in the middle of the night, he was taken so ill, as to induce Mrs. Bland to send for his brother, an apothecary in the town; but before that gentleman arrived, he was dead. An inquest was held, and the jury, after the fullest inquiry, and the examination of the surgeons by whom the body was opened, returned a verdict of-Died by poison."

Dangerous Adulteration of Wine with

poisonous Substances.

The most dangerous adulteration of wine is by some preparations of lead, which possess the property of stopping the progress of acescence of wine, and also of rendering white wines, when muddy, transparent. I have good reason to state that lead is certainly employed for this purpose. The effect is very rapid; and there appears to be no other, method known of rapidly recovering ropy wines. Wine-merchants persuade themselves that the minute quantity of lead employed for that purpose is perfectly harmless, and that no atom of lead remains in the wine. Chemical analysis proves the contrary; and the practice of claryfying spoiled white wines by means of lead, must be nounced as highly deleterious.

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Lead, in whatever state it be taken into the stomach, occasions terrible diseases; and wine, adulterated with the minutest quantity of it, becomes a slow poison. The merchant or dealer who practises this dangerous sophistication, adds the crime of murder to that of fraud, and deliberately scatters the seeds of disease and death among those consumers who contribute to his emolument. If to debase the current coin of the realm be denounced as a capital offence, what punishment should be awarded against a practice which converts into poison a liquor used for sacred purposes?

[We wish some philanthropic persons would transmit us the names of those fraudulent wine-dealers.]

THE WHISTLE.

When I was a child of seven years old (say3 Doctor Franklin) my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered, and gave all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers and sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.

This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind: so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle; and I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.

When I saw one too ambitious of court favour, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle.

When I saw another fond of po pularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by neglect, He pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle.

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much for your whistle.

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable` improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, Mistaken man, said I, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure: you give too much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipage, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful sweettempered girl, married to an illnatured brute of a husband, What a pity, say I, that she should pay so much for a whistle!

In short, I conceive that a great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things; and by their giving too much for their whistles.

AMUSEMENT.

MAXIMS OF MR. O'DOHERTY.

Introduction.

I have often thought that the world loses much valuable information from the laziness or diffidence of people, who have it in their power to

communicate facts and observations resulting from their own experience, and yet neglect doing so. The idlest or most unobservant has seen, heard, or thought something, which might conduce to the general stock of knowledge. A single remark may throw light on a doubtful or a knotty pointa solitary fact, observed by a careless individual, and which may have escaped the notice of other observers, however acute, may suffice to upset, or to establish, a theory.

For my part, my life has been abundantly chequered. I have mixed in society of all kinds, high and low. I have read much, wrote much, and thought a little. Very little, it is true, but still, more than nine-tenths of people who write books. I am still in the prime of my life, and, I believe, in the vigour of my intellect. I intend, therefore, to write down as they occur to me, without binding myself to any order, whether expressed or understood, any general reflections that may occur on men and manners, on the modes of thought and action, on the hopes, fears, wishes, doubts, loves, and hatreds, of mankind. It is probable that what I shall write will not be worth reading. I cannot help that. All my bargain is, that I shall give genuine reflection, and narrate nothing but what I have seen and heard.

I was one day in the Salopian Coffeehouse, near Charing-cross, taking a bowl of ox-tail soup, when a venerable and imposing-looking gentleman came in. The coffee-room of that house is small, and it so happened that every box was occupied—that is, had a gentleman or two in it. The elderly gentleman looked about a little confused, and every body in the room gazed at him, without offering him a share of any table. Such is the politeness and affability of the English. I instantly rose, and requested him to be seated opposite me. He complied, with a bow; and, after he had ordered what he wanted, we fell into conver sation. He was a thoughtful man, who delivered his sentences in a weighty and well-considered style. He did not say much, but what he did say was marked with the impress

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