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Baked Faggots.-Having procured your piggDOMESTIC RECEIPTS.
fry (the quantity to be regulated by the size of
family), wash and set it on the fire, in a saucepan, Prench way of Dressing Cold Beetroot. -Take
with just sufficient water to cover; add a bunch your cold beetroot-chop it very small and put it
of sage, and four or five onions; let all boil ten in a saucepan to heat, with a little cream; im
minutes ; take out the meat, and cut in slices : mediately before serving, put in a spoonful of
then take out the sage and onions, and chop it vinegar and a little brown sugar; serve hot.
all finely together; season with pepper and salt; M. C. S.
cut the caul in pieces, and fill with the meat about
the size of an ordinary tea cup; place them on a tin White Soup à la Jenny Lind, - Take three
and bake in a moderate oven; do not throwaway quarts of white stock, seasoned with white
the water it was boiled in, but boil it down to a pepper and mace; put in three ounces of sago ;
sufficient quantity to serve with the faggots as let it boil twenty minutes, stirring occasionally:
gravy.--Recommended and much approved. ONE beat the yolks of four eggs with a gill of cream,
OF THE PAMILY. and stir into the soup immediately on taking it off the fire.-M. C. S. Edinburgh. .
Preserved Fruit Tarts.-Roll out some very
good puff-paste, about a quarter of an inch thick; Boiled Cheese.-Put one table-spoonful of milk
cut it into pieces about four inches square. Line into a saucepan, with a bit of butter, the size of
your patty-pans, paring them very neatly round a nutmeg, and one quarter of a pound of prime
with a knife. Put in a sufficient quantity of cheese, grated finely; stir the whole over a slow
aprieot, raspberry, strawberry, currant, damson, fire, until it boils, then add one egg, well
apple, or any other preserved fruit. String them beaten ; stir all well together, turn it into your
crossways with paste, made in the following dish, brown it, and serve hot. “A dish worth
manner: mix an ounce of fresh butter, with knowing.”-W.
your hands, in a quarter of a pound of fiour, and Apples.--This fruit is both nutritious and whole- a little cold water; rub it well between the some, and deserving a more prominent place board and your hand till it begins to string; cut in the catalogue of table-fruits than is generally it into small pieces, roll it out, and draw it into assigned to it. Sweet apples contain a large fine strings. Lay them crossways over the tarts, amount of saccharine matter, and are probably and bake them from eight to ten minutes in a more nutritious than the sour varieties. The quick oven, taking care to keep them of a very apple, however, like all other fruits, should never light brown colour.-B. WILSON. be eaten in an unsound or unripe state, and the
Indian Receipt for Curry. It may be that the fairest and most perfect fruit should always, if possible, be selected for use.
following real Indian receipt for curry may not
be unacceptable to some of your readers.-A wet Ginger Cup Cake.-Cut up the butter in the Curry.-Cut a chicken into pieces, saving the milk, and warm them slightly. Warm also the bones; fry it gently in an ounce of fresh butter, treacle, and stir it into the milk and butter; strewing over it, after it has been on the fire for then stir in, gradually, the sugar, and set it a few minutes, one tablespoonful of curry powder. away to get cool. Beat the eggs very light, and Have ready two large onions cut small into rings, stir them into the mixture alternately with the and take care to have them fried without turning. flour. Add the ginger and other spice with the Put the onions with the fried chicken into a pearlash, and stir the whole very hard. Butter stew-pan and add half a pint of good stock (or, if small tins, nearly all them with the mixture, not to be had, of water; (cover the pan, and stew and bake the cakes in a moderate oven.-B. the whole gently, until the meat becomes tender. WILSON.
If wished, just before it is served, add the juice Apple Paste.-Pare your apples and cut them of half a small lemon ; salt to the taste. If made down. Weigh them. and allow an equal quan- from meat already cooked, it must not be stewed tity of white sugar; put them into a jar, and more than five minutes, if at all.-E. G, Fort of boil till quite soft. Boil your sugar to a syrup,
Apeergurgh, Pres. of Bombay. then drop in the apples with a teacupful of
Infant's Food. Having noticed in a late marmalade, and a little grated ginger; let them
number of the Family Friend & request for a simmer ten minutes. Wet your shapes with
receipt for Infant's food," I beg to enclose this spirits, and dish them. They will turn out firm,
one, though somewhat similar to the French one and keep for years. The apples must be put into
mentioned by the Enquirer. - Take a pound of cold water, as they are pared. The proportion of
the best flour, tie it very tightly in a strong cloth water is a breakfast cupful to two pounds of
and put it into a pan of boiling water in which sugar.
put a plate, to prevent the cloth sticking to the To Bake Apples.-Sweet apples properly baked bottom of the pan). Boil it for three hours withand eaten with milk, are excellent. The best out allowing it to go off the boil-when coldish, method of baking tart apples is, to take the untie the cloth, and scrape off the out-side of fairest and largest in size, wipe them clean if ball: when to be used, grate down the quantity thin skinned, and pare them if the skin is thick | required and break it with cold water; boil four and tough; cut out the largest portion of the or five minutes only, and sweeten to the taste, core from one end, and place the fruit on well Flour prepared in this way is confidently recomglazed earthen dishes or pans, with the end mended by an experienced sick nurse as a soft which has been cored upwards, and all the and nutritious food for the youngest infant, and cavity with refined powdered sugar. Then place will keep for a month or more in its hard compact them in the oven or other apparatus for baking state. Milk may be added when about to be eaten, until sufficiently cooked. Take them out, and if wished.--S. S. MILLER, Laverock-Bank, near when cold, they are perfectly delicious.
CHARADE. To write on Paper with Letters of Gold.-Put When did Clymene's son conduct the train some gum-arabic into common writing ink, and of Sol through skies, he show'd a spirit vain: write with it in the usual way; when the writing The fiery coursers of his heaven-born sire, is dry, breathe on it; the warmth and moisture Spurning such guidance, set the world on fire! soften the gum, and will cause it to fasten on Then was my primal part, as legends say, the gold leaf, which may be laid on in the usual Amid the hottest portions of the fray: way, and the superfluous part brushed off.
Such part of me, in present time, doth roll
Its shape is different in different spots,
'Tis prized by palaces as well as cots; Forwards-backwards, read my name,
Sometimes its colours are extremely gay, In sound and meaning I'm the same;
Sometimes 't is plain as pitchfork used for hav, Infants on their mother's knee
When lovely Laura, sitting by the fire, Smile with joy at sight of me;
Sees Snap, she feels to hug him a desire; Add a letter-strange but true,
He is her idol of the canine brood, A man I then appear to view.
Though seldom seen in an attractive mood:
On such occasions, when she says “Snap, dear!!
My second part assuredly is near.
Springs o'er my whole, while bounding o'er the I'm rough, I'm smooth, I'm wet, I'm dry,
floor, My station low, my title high ;
Oft finely decorated is my frame, The king himself my master is,
Oft it is plain. Now do disclose my name. I'm used by all-but only his.
A word there is, five syllables contains,
ANSWERS TO FAMILY PASTIME. 3.
1. The one issues manifestoes, the other in In all things false, yet ever true,
fests toes at his shoes. 2. All are wise, or otru I'm still the same, but ever new;
wise. 3. You would say-Fidale, D.D. (MA Lifeless-life's perfect form I wear,
de-dee). 4. She would come down plump Can show a nose, eye, tongue, or ear,
Falsehood. 6. Candle. 7. A blacksmith. Yet neither see, smell, taste, nor hear;)
Craw-fish. 9. April-fool.
Lydia ! attend to this illuming lay.
1. Time's birth seems mystical as that of clay I ne'er was born, nor e'er can die,
2. Light shone on clay in instant of its birth! Then tell me, pray ! tell what am I.
Where't was protruded from indented eart 3. But, when deep seated 'neath maternal la
Rays reach'd it not, for lack of fitting gap Why must convents be the abodes of purity?
4. Inert was clay, till the Almighty made
It groundwork of the keeper of the shade: What letter must you add to your situation
5. Then, spirit-gladden'd, through the guille to remove you from it?
It reveli'd righteously mid Eden's fare. Though I, alas! a prisoner be,
| 6.'T was trodden by the twain, 'mid mould My trade is prisoners to set free;
brook, Yo slave his lord's command obeys
7. But, too deep-set 'neath rill-bed, debarr'd lo Vith more insinuating ways;
8. The rebel raised a city, using clay My genius piercing, sharp, and bright,
From earth extracted, for its mansions Yet'tis not in me to give light!
9. Skill mark'd his race, that must have at A new and wondrous art I show,
ploy'd Of raising spirits from below.
Clay to make vessels constant use destro In serving man my time I spend
10. The bricks of Babel were produced from els I break, 'tis true, but cannot bend !
Harden'd for scoffers in the solar ray
11. It is unlikely the contemning crew To make out my first, a lawyer will try,
Cherish'd of man's original just view; And my second will much wish to make it; 12. It is well known how clay is now esteem My whole I am sure of whenever you're by, So Lydia, you perceive I have not dream And I heartily wish you may take it!
Rather, I trust, you will a praise bestow, 8.
Because so simply verity I show! 00 My first was much used by the Romans of old; | REBUS — S atan, E qual, A thens, aje Beware of my second, 't will lead you to scold;
Egypt, Nurse : Seamen. Were my whole put away, you might find your self cold.
her sake might render him prone to believe ELLEN LYNDHURST; the reported dangers without investigation.
She might, at all events, conceal her A TALE OF TRIAL AND TRIUMPH.
trouble froin him for a time, until, by (Continued from page 185.)
further correspondence with Alfred, she
| had in sonie degree tested the truth of the CHAPTER XIII.
allegations. What could she do? She THE DAUGHTER'S FIRST SECRET.
would not for worlds wrong the being she
had learned to love, and she equally When Ellen had concluded the perusal dreaded deceiving her father, to whom she of her cousin's letter, she sat for several owed all she enjoyed. A fearful struggle moments pale, speechless, motionless, like of principle and passion ensued, and served a beautiful statue. Until this moment she to prove the well-known truth, that all are had never discovered the depth of her frail. She resolved to withhold the fact love, or tested the strength of the spell of Alfred's letter for, a time from her which entranced her. Hers was not only father, hoping that some new circumfirst affection, but it fell upon the heart of stances might arise to assist her judgwoman. It bore with it the fervour of ment" and at the same time to strengthen girlish attachment, with all the strength her resolution. Frase 3,45 of woman's devotion. Her first'impulse When she entered the parlour she found was to believe the object of her attach- her father already awaiting ber arrival. ment to be the victim of some vile He was instantly struck with the paleness calumny: her own artlessness rendered it of her countenance, and, after kissing her impossible for her to believe in the depth fondly, he said, “Why, Ellen, your hands of deceit attributed to Charles Langford. are feverish, and your face is as pale as He was innocent and injured. He spoke death! What ails you, darling?" sentiments of benevolence and love, so Her lips quivered, and her brain swam, evidently from the heart, there was no as she answered “ Nothing." mistaking him. There was an earnest “Nay, nay, my child,” said Mr. Lyndness about his words and writings which hurst, * you cannot assure me of that; I falsehood never exhibited. Her father see that you are ill—I have never, since had seen and approved of him, and he was your earliest childhood, seen you look so never mistaken; his uncle had spoken alarmingly unwell before." in glowing terms of “his boy," and his Ellen tried to smile, but the quivering adopted heir. Could both could all-be of her lip only confirmed her father's suswrong? It was far easier to believe her picion that there was something wrong. cousin prejudiced, mistaken as to the She knew not how to escape from the identity of the person, or misinformed. difficulty in which she was placed, and It was more charitable to think so, and tears were just filling her eves, when the certainly more pleasant. The heart sel. postman's knock diverted their attention dom looks calmly upon disappointment, for a moment, and afforded her a fortunate while a single ray of hope remains. Still, escape from the difficulty. doubts had been created, and in spite of The servant entered the room, holding her efforts at self-consolation, they some- a letter, which Ellen seized with great times gained ascendancy. She retired to enotion. The fear flashed across her bed, but slept not. In the pale rays of mind that it might be another letter from the moon which stole through the lattice Alfred, in the strain of the previous one, of her chamber, her tears glistened like and then her father would discover all. stars twinkling in the dark firmament. The colour rose to her cheek's as she exHer soul was indeed o’erdast-the storm claimed, “It is from Charles !” of life had begun.
“Ah, now I see,” said Mr. Lyndhurst, She rose after a sleepless night, and “the cause of your paleness this morning, dreaded to meet her father. She had never -Charles has been neglectful; but the in all her life concealed a fact from him— medicine has come, shall set you right at should she do so now? He, however, I last.” might be inore credulous. His fears for Ellen opened and read an episile
VOL. VIII.-20. XCIII.
breathing sentiments of the fondest devo
TBSP CHAPTER XIV. tion, expressed in terms of the truest
Þ EW DOUBTS AND CONFIRMATIONS. pathos. As she hastily ran over the lines of love and promise, that seemed as truth Time passed on, but nothing occurred to her troubled heart, her eyes, brightened, to release Ellen from the unhappy posiand her whole aspect changed. Mr. Lynd- tion in which she had placed herself in with hurst watched her countenance with in- , reference to her father. She had repeatedly tense anxiety, and as he read the express written to Alfred, and had heard from him sion of her features, he thought inwardly, as many times. And the tenderness of her « Truly my daughter loves." 'invio!
letters, with the charitable principles they If Ellen doubted the truth of her cou.' communicated, almost persuaded Alfred sin's communication before, she did so that he had acted hastily, and that a doubly now, immediately after reading mistake might exist somewhere. It was the loving sentiments penned by Charles. possible, he thought, that Mr. Montague's She handed the letter to her father with brother, as a creditor of Langford, had an air of triumph.
spoken harshly for creditors are too “Really, my child," said Mr. Lynd. often unmerciful, and, in default of paya hurst,“ if it were possible for me to sup-'1 ment, magnify the faults to which they pose that you would ever forget your were blind before. Y d in father, I should be jealous of the influence In the mean time the correspondence which Charles Langford holds over you. | with Charles and Ellen continued. As If the reception of a letter from him can far as his letters were concerned, there change you so much, your love must be was an evident attachment; and he even deep indeed.”
ventured to urge that the day of their “Oh, father," said Ellen, " can you be- union should not be delayed. There was lieve that there is any one for whom I however, upon Ellen's features an evident could forget my duty and my love to you? expression of sadness. Her father no. It is natural that Charles's attentions ticed that her daily duties were discharged should please me, since our lot is to be less regularly than before ; and that when united. But believe me, a father's love she returned from her accustomed visit will ever hold its rightful place within my to the poor, she had less to communicat heart."
of tales of good done, of sad hearts mad " There's a good child,” said Mr. glad, of childish glee, of comfort tool Lyndhurst, fondly caressing her; “I age, and of grateful blessings receive could not bear to be forgotten. But what than had been her usual habit. He there of Alfred ?” he continued,"he seems to fore feared that her health was declining have overlooked us quite !"
and many of the poor of the village wa Ellen trembled, and again turned pale. heard to predict that the hand of deat She felt that it was her duty to acquaint was upon Miss Ellen. her father of the letter she had received ;| Mr. Lyndhurst called upon the Squin but she paused to estimate the conse one day to talk over this anxiety. A quences, and thought she saw a bright meeting Mrs. Davis and the Squire te dream of happiness dispelled. That mo- gether, they made the matter a subiec ment of hesitation was fatal to her in- mutual confidence. tegrity,—she evaded her father's remark, “I fear," said Mr. Lyndhurst, and for the first time in her life held a my daughter is rapidly sinking-I kno secret apart from him. From that moment not from what cause. Perhaps her ansid she became uneasy in her conscience; as to her future settlement overpowe even her father's sweetest looks seemed to her.” reprove her, and his kindest words seemed “If so," said the Squire, “the soon to have within them the spirit of rebuke. the settlement is effected the better. Her prayers to heaven brought her less keep her in a state of doubt, with Charle comfort than before, and she felt acutely far away from her, only aggravates that she had fallen from the high pinnacle evil. Let us marry the young couple of moral purity by which she had long once, and depend upon it they will do we endeavoured to hold.
"I must say," said Mrs. Davis, “that perusal of this appeal; a certain recollec I have noticed Miss Ellen's decline with tion of large and frequent remittance much concern. And sometimes I have crossed his mind, but at such a moment i; ventured to think, that it was not alto. was a theme he disliked to dwell upon gether anxiety as to the future, that makes so, folding 'the letter, he returned it to his her look so pale and sad. Are we sure pocket without a further remark. that the engagement is a happy one ?-does In a long room, within the large buildthe young Squire love the girl as much as ing described in a previous chapter, were we suppose ?-and is 'she satisfied of the a number of small beds, hung around with truth of his attachment?"
white furniture. In each bed lay a victim “Of course," said both the father and of bodily sickness. Some were rapidly the Squire, “there can be no doubt of progressing towards convalescence, and that. The letters which she received from looked cheerfully around as if anticipating him are of the most ardent description." "the moment when they would be set free
This prompt testimony by two persons from confinement; others bore the unmisso deeply interested almost sbook Mrs. takable marks of death, and groaned and Davis's doubts from their foundation. But wept as they turned upon the beds from she recollected some circumstances in which they never hoped to rise. Moving connection with Mr. Charles during his about with soft footsteps, were homelyvisit to Windmere, which had made a looking women in nèat attire, ministering painful and a lasting impression upon he to the wants of the sufferers under their mind.
care. The two gentlemen, however, were fully Upon one of these beds lay a youthful convinced of Charles's integrity, and would invalid, upon the point of death. She allow no suspicion to the contrary. So bore all the marks of youth and beauty, far from believing him to be playing a and looked to the contemplative mind like false part, they judged it most desirable to a stricken flower. Alfred Beresford entered bring about the union with all the expedi- the room, and passed on direct to her bedtion that propriety would allow. This side. determination was materially assisted by “I understand," said he, “ from one the perusal of a letter which the Squire of the nurses, that you expressed an earnhad received from Charles only the day est desire to see me ?" previous. It besought his uncle to bring “I did,” replied the sufferer, in a weak. about their settlement as speedily as pos- and trembling voice. "I have felt, from sible,-complained of his loneliness in life, the kindness which you have shown to me -and of the many calls upon him for since my confinement here, that I might duties which he required a kindred spirit | make a communication to you, and ask to share. The letter was read and admired you to do me a favour, as my dying revery much, and satisfied the father and the quest.” uncle that Charles had a noble and de- “Whatever I can do to serve you, you voted heart. The old gentleman was re- may rely upon,” said Alfred. folding the letter to return it to his "Thank you for the promise," said the pocket, when he discovered in one of the sufferer; and she proceeded with her folded parts a postscript which had escaped story. “I was brought to this hospital his attention before. It read thus, “Dear under the name of Jane Middleton. But Uncle,-I regret to add to this that the that is not my name. I almost tremble ample means with which your bounty last to communicate my history, but feeling supplied me, are almost entirely exhausted. that I have only a few hours more to live, The many appeals to my benevolence on I wish to make my end known to my behalf of wretched poverty and ignorance, family, from whom I have been separated have completely stripped me, notwith for two years, without their having the standing the most rigid self-denial. If, \ slightest clue to my fate. I am a daughtherefore, you can possibly aid me by a ter of the dowager Lady Allan, of Hertsey further remittance at once, it will add to Park. About four years ago, I became the many obligations I owe you.” The acquainted with a man, who made profesSquire paused for a moment after the sions of attachment to me, to which I