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sugar, and pour over the boiling water. Let it cool, then strain it; add the wine, lemon-juice, and eggs, previously well beaten, and also strained, and the beverage will be ready for use. If thought desirable, the quantity of sherry and water could be lessened, and milk substituted for them. To obtain the flavour of the lemon-rind properly, a few lumps of the sugar should be rubbed over it, until some of the yellow is absorbed.

Time.—Altogether 1 hour to make it. Average cost, Is. Sd.

Sufficient to make 2£ pints of lemonade. Seasonable at any time.

TO MAKE MUTTON BEOTH.

1872. Ingkedients.—1 lb. of the scrag end of the neck of mutton, 1 onion, a bunch of sweet herbs, 4 turnip, 3 pints of water, pepper and salt to taste.

Mode.—Put the mutton into a stewpan; pour over the water cold and add the other ingredients. When it boils, skim it very carefully, cover the pan closely, and let it simmer very gently for an hour; strain it, let it cool, take off all the fat from the surface, and warm up as much as may be required, adding, if the patient be allowed to take it, a teaspoonful of minced parsley which has been previously scalded. Pearl barley or rice are very nice additions to mutton broth, and should be boiled as long as the other ingredients. When either of these is added, the broth must not be strained, but merely thoroughly skimmed. Plain mutton broth without seasoning is made by merely boiling the mutton, water, and salt together, straining it, letting the broth cool, skimming all the fat off, and warming up as much as is required. This preparation would be very tasteless and insipid, but likely to agree with very delicate stomachs, whereas the least addition of other ingredients would have the contrary effect.

Time.—1 hour. Average cost, Id.

Sufficient to make from I3 to 2 pints of broth.

Seasonable at any time.

Note.—Veal broth may be made in the same manner; the knuckle of a leg or shoulder is the part usually used for this purpose. It is very good with the addition of the inferior joints of a fowl, or a few shank-bones.

MUTTON BROTH, QUICKLY MADE.

1873. Ingbedients.—1 or 2 drops from a neck of mutton, 1 pint of water, a small bunch of sweet herbs, 3 of an onion, pepper and salt to taste.

Mode.—Cut the meat into small pieces; put it into a saucepan with the bones, but no skin or fat; add the other ingredients; cover the saucepan, and bring the water quickly to boil. Take the lid off, and continue the rapid boiling for 20 minutes, skimming it well during the process ; strain the broth into a basin; if there should be any fat left on the surface, remove it by laying a piece of thin paper on the top: the greasy particles will adhere to the paper, and so free the preparation from them. To an invalid nothing is more disagreeable than broth served with a quantity of fat floating on the top; to avoid this, it is always better to allow it to get thoroughly cool, the fat can then be so easily removed.

Time.—20 minutes after the water boils. Average cost, 5d.

Sufficient to make i pint of broth. Seasonable at any time.

STEWED BABBITS IN MILK.

1874. Ingredients.—2 very young rabbits, not nearly half grown; li pint of milk, 1 blade of mace, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, a little salt and cayenne.

Mode.—Mix the flour very smoothly with 4 tablespoonfuls of the milk, and when this is well mixed, add the remainder. Cut up the rabbits into joints, put them into a stewpan, with the milk and other ingredients, and simmer them very gently until quite tender. Stir the contents from time to time, to keep the milk smooth and prevent it from burning, i hour will be sufficient for the cooking of this dish.

Time.—§ hour. Average cost, from Is. to Is. 6d. each.

Sufficient for 3 or 4 meals. Seasonable from September to February

BICE-MILK.

1875. Ingredients.—3 tablespoonfuls of rice, 1 quart of milk, sugar to taste; when liked, a little grated nutmeg.

Mode.—Well wash the rice, put it into a saucepan with the milk, and simmer gently until the rice is tender, stirring it from time to time to prevent the milk from burning; sweeten it, add a little grated nutmeg, and serve. This dish is also very suitable and wholesome for children; it may be flavoured with a little lemon-peel, and a little finely-minced suet may be boiled with it, which renders it more strengthening and more wholesome. Tapioca, semolina, vermicelli, and macaroni, may all be dressed in the same manner.

Time.—From 3 to 1 hour. Seasonable at any time.

TO MAKE TOAST-AND-WATEB.

1876. Ingredients.—A slice of bread, 1 quart of boiling water. Mode.—Cut a slice from a stale loaf (a piece of hard crust is better

than anything else for the purpose), toast it of a nice brown on every side, but do not allow it to burn or blacken. Put it into a jug, pour the boiling water over it, cover it closely, and let it remain until cold. When strained, it will be ready for use. Toast-and-water should always be made a short time before it is required, to enable it to get cold: if drunk in a tepid or lukewarm state, it is an exceedingly disagreeable beverage. If, as is sometimes the case, this drink is wanted in a hurry, put the toasted bread into a jug, and only just cover it with the boiling water; when this is cool, cold water may be added in the proportion required,—the toast-and-water strained; it will then be ready for use, and is more expeditiously prepared than by the above method.

TOAST SANDWICHES.

1877. Ingredients.—Thin cold toast, thin slices of bread-andbutter, pepper and salt to taste.

Mode.—place a very thin piece of cold toast between 2 slices of thin bread-and-butter in the form of a sandwich, adding a seasoning of pepper and salt. This sandwich may be varied by adding a little pulled meat, or very fine slices of cold meat, to the toast, and in any of these forms will be found very tempting to the appetite of an invalid.

1878. Besides the recipes contained in this chapter, there are, in the previous chapters on cookery, many others suitable for invalids, which it would be useless to repeat here. Recipes for fish simply dressed, light soups, plain roast meat, well-dressed vegetables, poultry, simple puddings, jelly, ■tewed fruits, kc, &c, all of which dishes may be partaken of by invalids and convalescents, will be found in preceding chapters.

DINNERS AND DINING.

CHAPTER XL.

1879. Man, it has been said, is a dining animal. Creatures of the inferior races eat and drink ; man only dines. It has also been said that he is B cooking animal; but some races eat food without cooking it. A Croat captain said to M. Brillat Savarin, "When, in campaign, we feel hungry, we knock over the first animal we find, cut off a steak, powder it with salt, put it under the saddle, gallop over it for half a mile, and then eat it." Huntsmen in Dauphiny, when out shooting, have been known to kill a bird, pluck it, salt and pepper it, and cook it by carrying it some time in their caps. It is equally true that some races of men do not dine any more than the tiger or the vulture. It is not a dinner at which sits the aboriginal Australian, who gnaws his bone half baro and then flings it behind to his squaw. And the native of Terra-del-Fuego does not dine when he gets his morsel of red clay. Dining is the privilege of civilization. The rank which a people occupy in the grand scale may be measured by their way of taking their meals, as well as by their way of treating their women. The nation which knows how to dine has learnt the leading lesson of progress. It implies both the will and the skill to reduce to order, and surround with idealism, and graces, the more material conditions of human existence; and wherever that will and that skill exist, life cannot be wholly ignoble.

18S0. Dinner, being the grand solid meal of the day, is a matter of considerable importance; and a well-served table is a striking index of human ingenuity and resource. "Their table," says Lord Byron, in describing a dinner-party given by Lord and Lady Amundeville at Norman Abbey,—

"Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts
To pass the Styx for more substantial feasts
I will not dwell upon ragouts or roasts,

Albeit all human history attests
That happiness for man—the hungry sinner !—
Since Evo ate apples, much depends on dinner."

And then he goes on to observe upon the curious complexity of the results produced by human cleverness and application catering for the modifications which occur in civilized life, one of the simplest of the primal instincts:—

"The mind is lost in mighty contemplation

Of intellect expended on two courses;
And indigestion's grand multiplication

Requires arithmetic beyond my forces.
Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration,

That cookery could have called forth such resources,
As form a science and a nomenclature
From out the commonest demands of nature?"

And we may well say, Who, indeed, would suppose it? The gulf between the Croat, with a steak under his saddle, and Aloxis Soyer getting up a great dinner at the Reform Club, or even Thackeray's Mrs. Raymond Gray giving " a little dinner" to Mr. Snob (with one of those famous "roly-poly puddings" of hers),—what a gulf it is I

l88l< That Adam's "ration," however, was "simple," is a matter on which

we have contrary judgments given by the poets. When Raphael paid that

memorable visit to Paradise,—which we are expressly told by Milton he did

exactly at dinner-time,—Eve seems to have prepared "a little dinner" not

wholly destitute of complexity, and to have added ice-creams and perfumes.

Nothing can be clearer than the testimony of the poet on these points :—

n And Eve within, due at her home prepared
For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please
True appetite, and not disrelish thirst

Of nectarous draughts between

. . . With dispatchful looks in haste
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent,
"What choice to choose for delicacy best,
What order so contrived as not to mix
Tastes not well joined, inelegant, but bring
Taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change—
* • • • »

She tempers dulcet creams

then strews the ground

With rose and odours."

It may be observed, in passing, that the poets, though they have more to say

about wine than solid food, because the former more directly stimulates the

intellect and the feelings, do not flinch from the subject of eating and drinking.

There is infinite zest in the above passage from Milton, and even more in the

famous description of a dainty supper, given by Keats in his "Eve of Saint

Agnes." Could Queen Mab herself desire to sit down to anything nicer, both

as to its appointments and serving, and as to its quality, than the collation

served by Porphyro in the lady's bedroom while she slept ?—

"There by the bedside, where the faded moon
Made a dim ,silver twilight, soft he set
A table, and, half-anguiah'd, threw thereon
A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet.
# » • * #

While he, from forth the closet brought a heap
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrups tinct with cinnamon;
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
From 8;iken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon."

But Tunuyson has ventured beyond dates, and quinces, and syrups, which

may be thought easy to be brought in by a poet. In his idyl of "Audley

Court" he gives a most appetizing description of a pasty at a pic-nic :—

•' There, on a slope of orchard, Francis laid

A damask napkin wrought with horse and hound;
Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of home,
And, half cut down, a pasty costly made,
Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret, lay
Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks
Imbedded and injellied."

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