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of two eggs.

In frying use a slice to lift the articles in and be brown, some thick slices of carrots, and out of the pan, and drain them.

trimmings of any fresh meat-bones you have, To make batter for frying: melt two ounces with a pint and a half of water, or the same of butter in a little warm water, and pour it quantity of stock, according to what the meat upon half-a-pound of flour; stir it and add is, and add seasoning. Cover the pan close, and water enough to form a batter, thick enough to set it over a slow stove; it will require two or adhere to whatever is put into it; but it should three hours, as its size and quality may direct. run freely : add some salt and the beaten whites Then strain the gravy; keep the meat quite

hot; take the fat off by plunging the basin into A small shallow frying-pan, or sauté pan, as it cold water, which will cause the fat to coaguis called, is very useful to fry articles to be late; and boil it as quickly as you can till it stewed this method differs from common thickens. If, however, you wish the gravy to frying, as it only requires butter enough to adhere to the meat, it must be still further keep the article from sticking to the pan and thickened; then with a brush kept for the purburning.

pose do over the meat, and if that has been The fire for frying should be free from smoky larded, put it into the oven for a few minutes. coals, sharp, and even. Charcoal makes the This is called “glazing," and is much in use for best frying fire.

made-dishes. The fat should be carefully drained from all fried articles ; indeed, they should be so dry as

Glazing is done by brushing melted glaze or scarcely to soil a cloth. Fish is best drained jelly over the article, and letting it cool; in by wrapping it in soft whited-brown paper, by

some cases it is requisite to cover the articles which it will so dry as not to soil the napkin

with two or three coats of glaze, allowing each

to cool as it is laid on. The glaze should be upon which it is served.

of a clear yellow brown, and as thick as good Stewing. --All articles to be stewed should first treacle. be boiled gently, then skimmed and set aside If you have not the glaze ready, sift a little in an even heat: on this account, charcoal makes sugar over the article to be glazed, and finish in the best fire for stewing.

the oven, with a salamander, or red hot shovel. All stews, or meat dressed a second time, should be only simmered, as the meat should

Boning.-In disengaging the flesh from the only be made hot through.

bones, work the knife always close to the bone,

and take care not to pierce the outer skin. A stewpan is the most advantageous vessel in which stews, bashes, soups, or gravies, can be

Minute directions are given in other parts of the

work for boning fowls, &c. made; indeed, for all purposes of boiling, a stewpan is preferable to a deep saucepan, as, in the Blanching makes the articlo plump and white, former, the articles are exposed to more even and consists in putting it into cold water over heat than when they are placed one upon the fire, allowing it to boil up, and then plung. another in the saucepan, and are likely to being it into cold water, where the article should broken in stirring.

remain until cold. The best stewpans are made of copper or iron ; they should be kept covered as much as pos- danger from the use of copper saucepans, or

Danger from Copper Saucepans.—The precise sible, unless you wish to reduce the gravy. Be careful not to fry in a stewpani; or, if so,

stewpans, imperfectly tinned, is far from rightly

understood. It appears that the acid contained with great care, and sufficient butter to save the

in stews and other made dishes, as lemon-juice, tinning from melting, Most of the directions for making soups and though it does not dissolve copper by being

merely boiled in it a few minutes, nevertheless, gravies apply also to this branch of cookery.

if allowed to cool and stand iu it for some time, Baking.–Baking is the least advantageous will acquire poisonous matter, as verdigris, in mode of cookery: for by it meat loses about one- the form of a green band, or crust, inside the third of its weight.

vessel. It has likewise been proved that weak Iron ovens are ill-adapted for baking meat or solutions of common salt, such as are daily meat-pies ; fruit- pies, pastry, and puddings, made by adding a little salt to boiling vegetables, may, however, be baked in them.

fish, or meat, act powerfully on copper vessels, Larding.-Have ready larding-pins of different although strong solutions, or brine would not

affect them. sizes, according to the article to be done; cut slices of bacon into bits of a proper length, quite attend to the nice distinctions by which copper

It is, however, in vain to hope that cooks will smooth, and put on a larding-needle to suit it, with which pierce the skin and a very little

stewpans may be rendered safe; the general of the meat, leaving the bacon in, and the two

advice given by prudent physicians is, therefore, ends of equal length outwards. Lard in rows

against their use at all.

The kettles in which the soups are made the size you think fit. The same effect with regard to flavour, may clean, by being washed'in hot water and rubbed

should be well tinned, and kept particularly be produced by raising the skin and laying a slice of fat bacon beneath it.

dry before they are put away. If they are not Doubing consists in passing

bacon through of the soup will be liable to be affected by the

kept well tinned, the taste as well as the colour meat, while larding is on the surface only.

iron; and if the soup-kettle be made of copper, Braising.–Put the meat you would braise and the tinning not quite perfect, everything into a stewpan, and cover it with thick slices of cooked in it will be more or less poisonous, as fat bacon: then lay round it six or eight onions, everything which is sweet, salt, or sour, extracts a faggot of sweet herbs, some celery, and, if tó verdigris from copper.

PRACTICAL PUZZLE.—No. 3. Get a bottle full of water, with the cork driven tightly in, and the top of it level with the neck of the bottle. You must remove the cork from the bottle without touching the cork with anything, and without injuring the bottle.

I'm a sharp little blade,

With diminutive head,
Most ladies I help to keep warm;

If it were not for me,

You quickly would see
How soon they'd expose every charm.

Reverse me, I pray,

And then, prythee, say, How, with me, you would like, sir, to deal ;

If I came on your arm,

You would think me too warm, For I'm sure I could cause you to feel.

ARITHMETICAL PROBLEM. An old man married a young woman; their united ages amounted to C. The man's age multiplied by 4 and divided by 9, gives the woman's age. What were their respective ages ?



PAGE 209.

1. If your gown was too small, what letter would give you stuif enough to enlarge it?

If in me my first's my second,
I shall ne'er my whole be reckon'd.

3. When I have wings most people wish me to fly away-when I have none, many take me in their hands. I don't go far to a ball, but have to do with one. I am sometimes near a trap, but never was known to be caught in one. I am a striking person all will allow, yet I am very apt to keep out of sight. I was known to Titania's elves, and have sometimes been taken for a ghost. I do not drink, but I love a good bowl. I am not a grasshopper, but the cricket cannot get on without me.

Let poets who way,

My beauties display,
I'm subject to change 't is well known:

Their fancy may dwell

On those that excel,
But never describe me alone.

Included in lays

That celebrate praise,
When lovers do sonnets compose;

Like rays of the morn

The skies to adorn,
I'm said to resemble the rose.

To mix me with white

They often delight;
The lily, that beautiful flower,

With me they compare,

Or give me a share,
In jessamine twined round the bower.

By all I'm possess'd,

And sometimes caress'd,
Admired in the sprightly fair maid,

It can't be denied,

I'm quite on one side,
Yet to beauty must still lend my aid.

I'rn slain to be saved, with much ado and pain,
Scatter'd, dispersed, and gather'd up again :
Wither'd, though young — sweet, though un-

perfumed, And carefully laid up to be consumed. M.


When the first line of figures is set down, subtract 2 from the last right-hand figure, and place it before the first figure of the line, and that is the quotient for five lines. For example, suppose the figures given are 86,214, the quotient will be 286,212. You may allow any person to put down the two first and the fourth lines, but you must always set down the third and fifth lines, and in doing so always make up 9 with the line above, as in the following example :

Therefore in the annexed dia86,214 gram you see that you have made 42, 680 9 in the third and fifth lines with 57,319 the lines above them. If the per62,854 son desired to put down the 37,145 figure should set down a l or 0 for

the last figure, you must say we Qt. 286,212 will have another figure, and an

other, and so on until he sets down something above ) or 2.

In solving the puzzle with three 67,856 lines, you subtract 1 from the 47,218 last figure, and place it before the 52,781 first figure, and make up the third

line yourself to 9. For example: Qt. 167,855 67,856 is given, and the quotient

will be 167,855, as shown in the above diagram.

ARITHMETICAL PROBLEMS.-1. London. 2. Solomon. 3. Olive-oil. 4. Violin.

ENIGMA.-The two men had been widowers, and married each others daughters.

CONUNDRUMS.—1. Noise. 2. When the hedges are shooting, and when the bull rushes out (bullrush is out). 3. When it becomes a lady. 4. When she is a little pale (pail). 5. When it is a little bare (bear). 6. When it is a little cross. 7. When it is a little reddish (radish).

PUZZLING INSCRIPTION. — By the use of the single vowel E, the following couplet was formed,

Four merry fiddlers play'd all night,

To many a dancing ninny;
And the uext morning went away,

And each received a guinea.

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scheme was concocting in the gentleman's rooms for some kind of blowing-up, either distant or near; and though he seemed, as she said, a kind and a pleasant-spoken gentleman, she never saw such things about in all her life; and she usually concluded by expressing her wonder when it was all to come out,-for that a crisis was approaching, Jane was determined to believe.

Mrs. Maitland, the lady of the house, being constitutionally liable to catch the infection of alarm, felt often a little disturbed about the lodger, only that she was perpetually re-assured by her daughter, who, having once and once only looked him fully in the face, and heard him speak, as she did when they met at the door, spoke confidently of the honest, grave countenance that he had, the upright, manly bearing, and the general appearance there was about him, the young lady said, of one of whom a kindness might be asked, or a service required.

This was all very well and very comforting, while the young lady was present; but no sooner had the door closed upon her departing steps, than her mother began to consult again with her servant, and to listen to the reports which came down from the upper rooms of the house, of instruments, Jane said,-and she had by some lucky chance got hold of the right word, though in her vocabulary its meaning would have been found to refer to some kind of conjuring.

But all was very quiet, and very regular in the department of the house appropriated to the lodger's use, notwithstanding these strange apprehensions. Nobody could say that the gentleman stayed out late at night, or had much company at home. Now and then a person like a clerk had been seen rather late at night, and on one occasion early in the morning; but there had been no suppers called for yet, and nothing, in fact, to which the most scrupulous matron could object.

Little, indeed, did Robert Clifton imagine that his quiet life, his innocent amusements, and his monotonous occupations, could be the occasion of even a passing comment either to mistress, or servant. In fact, he thought little of the people around him, only once or twice he recurred to the pale face of the hurried

girl whom he had met at the door, and who he thought he should like very well to meet again; but, except for the sense of a quickly-gliding figure being somewhere about on the stairs, or in a room above his own, he had no further evidence that such a being was an occupant of the saine house with himself. More than once, too, Robert wondered why that thin hand shook so that the key of the door could not be got into its proper place; but he was busy with the building of a town, and he had, consequently, few thoughts to spare for trifles, such as pale faces, and trembling hands.

One evening Robert had so far deviated from his accustomed habits as to throw himself down on a sofa, exclaiming as he did so, "I wonder what they are all doing at home? Let me see," he added, "this must be about the time when Philip was to return to town. I wonder he has never called on me. What a thoughtless fellow he is!"

Scarcely had these thoughts formed themselves into words, when a thundering knock was heard at the street-door; and in another moment Philip Clifton himself was ushered into the room.

Warm, frank, and cordial, was the first meeting of the two brothers, and much they found to say about home and mutual friends. Philip, however, unlike his former self, fell not unfrequently into fits of musing, which his brother observed, and even rallied him upon, without in the slightest degree suspecting there was any but the most agreeable cause for this change of manner. Indeed, Robert was at first favourably impressed with regard to his brother. He thought he had never seen him so grave, and so reasonable before; and though his fine, bold forehead was occasionally crossed by an anxious frown, this was easily accounted for, by the circumstance of his having so recently torn himself away from society so delightful as that which Robert had often had described to him, and expatiated upon, in his sister Catherine's letters, to cheer his generous heart, as the writer said, with the idea of their happiness, even while shut out from it himself.

Thus Robert Clifton had become tolerably well acquainted with Grace Linden and her brother, even while personally a

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stranger. He knew of Philip's admiration of that lady, too, and rejoiced to know it. But of late he had heard little. Catherine's correspondence had almost ceased. Her last letter had been written, as he fancied, in a peevish temper, for it spoke of everybody having gone silly; for which remark her brother gave her a reprimand; she had then written no more, and the reason why Robert had been thinking of his family more than usual was, that he had lately heard so little. Thus the plea1 sure to him of welcoming one of the party, and freely and fully talking all family and domestic matters over, was unusually great to one shut out as Robert was from such pleasant, social intercourse; and he asked of his brother a thousand trifling but familiar questions, which, under other circumstances, would scarcely have been permitted to interfere with the progress of the great plan.

Philip Clifton was not quite so communicative as his brother had expected. We have said he had fits of abstraction quite unusual with him, and along with these, or rather bursting in upon them, he fell into sudden fits of laughter louder than the occasion called for, and somewhat inappropriately timed.

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There are few things which spoil conversation more than causeless laughter. Robert wished his brother would be grave, and quiet,-for what he said was more serious and better worth listening to than usual. He wanted to hear about the Lindens too, and the progress of this new attachment: when he touched upon that the laughter certainly did cease, and a very becoming degree of reverence overspread the features of the young man as he said "That subject we will leave, if you please, for the present."

So Robert began to suspect, what was really the truth, that his brother had some painful or unpleasant intelligence to communicate the difficulty of bringing it forward causing a strange embarrassment which took the form of laughter, and that not until he had freely spoken on this subject could he begin with any other.

At length there was a moment's pause. Robert broke the silence by saying, "And what are you after yourself, Philip? You seem to be a good deal in London. Don't you find it expensive?"

Philip started from his chair, walked towards the fire-place, and stood leaning with his back against the mantelpiece.

Robert thought he had never seen a finer face and figure; but he did not think they belonged properly to the church; and he silently wondered what kind of clergyman his brother would make.

"I want to talk to you," said Philip "very gravely;" and he belied his words by laughing again.

"What is it?" said Robert. "We can never have a better opportunity. Go on."

Philip ran his fingers up through his beautiful hair, set it all standing on end, turned round and looked at himself in the glass, burst into another laugh, and said, what a pretty fellow he was to preach.

"You don't seem to be in a very preaching humour just now, certainly," said Robert. "I wish you would speak out, and say all that you want to say."

Philip took a long breath, and said— "Well, then."-But at that moment he knocked off the mantelpiece the small figure of an Indian god. It was broken by the fall, and he laughed prodigiously at that.

"This is perfect folly," said Robert, rather vexed about the broken figure. "If you have anything to say-speak!" "Well, then," said Philip again, "I am in a kind of-of fix." "Fix?

Of what kind?":

"A money fix, or rather a want of it." "You have had your usual remittance?" "Yes, and spent it before it came." "I don't know what you mean, nor what you want. I have nothing to advance."

"That's what the old lady tells me." "Don't, Philip, use that expression. You might surely say mother. I think it is the worst taste possible to give one's parents those stupid, vulgar names."

"Well, my mother, then. I am sure she deserves the name."

"Indeed she does; and now, more than ever, we ought to build up her dignity, and show her double honour."

"I think so, too. She bears up nobly." "Well then, since we are agreed on that point, let me hear more about your own business."

"The long and the short of it is, Robert, my remittances are not enough. I am in debt, and can't pay."

"I suppose I ought not to be surprised

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