“Deeprooted evils can not be abolished by striking at the
branches.”—_Boerhave._[1]
The history of the temperance movement has demonstrated the sad futility
of palliative remedies. We have seen that the malady of the poison vice
is not a self-limited, but a necessarily progressive evil. The half-way
measures of “restrictive” legislation have resulted only in furnishing
additional proof that prevention is better, because less impossible, than
control.[A] The regulation of the poison traffic, the redress of the
unavoidably resulting mischief, the cure and conversion of drunkards, in
order to be effectual, would impose intolerable and never ending burdens
on the resources even of the wealthiest communities, while the advocates
of prohibition would forestall the evils both of the remedy and the
disease.
But we should not overlook the truth that, in our own country at least,
the poison plant of intemperance springs from a composite root. In
southern Spain, under the dominion of the Saracens,[2] the poison vice
was almost unknown during a series of centuries.[B] The moral code and
the religion of the inhabitants discountenanced intemperance. The virtue
of dietetic purity ranked with chastity and cleanliness. An abundance
of harmless amusements diverted from vicious pastimes. Under such
circumstances the absence of direct temptations constituted a sufficient
safeguard against the vice of the poison habit; but in a country like
ours the efficacy of prohibition depends on the following supplementary
remedies:
1. INSTRUCTION.—In the struggle against the powers of darkness light
often proves a more effective weapon than might or right. Even the
limited light of human reason might help us to avoid mistakes that have
undoubtedly retarded the triumph of our cause. We must enlighten, as
well as admonish our children, if we would save them from the snares of
the tempter; among the victims of intemperance, even among those who can
speak from experience and can not deny that their poison has proved the
curse of their lives, only a small portion is at all able to comprehend
the necessary connection of cause and result. They ascribe their ruin to
the spite of fortune, to the machinations of an uncharitable world, to
abnormally untoward circumstances, rather than to the normal effects of
the insidious poison. Intoxication they admit to be an evil, but defend
the moderate use of a liquor as infallibly injurious in the smallest
as in the largest dose; they underrate the progressive tendency of
their vice and overrate their power of resistance; they cling to the
tradition that alcohol, discreetly enjoyed, may prove a blessing instead
of a curse. We must banish that fatal delusion. We must reveal the true
significance of the poison habit before we can hope to suppress it as
a life blighting vice. Our text-books should be found in every college
and every village school from Florida to Oregon. Every normal school
should graduate teachers of temperance. The law of the State of New York
providing for the introduction of primers on the effects of alcoholic
beverages was attacked by one of our leading scientific periodicals,
with more learning than insight, on the ground that the physiological
action of alcohol is as yet obscure even to our ablest pathologists,
and therefore not a fit subject for a common school text-book. The same
objection might be urged against every other branch of physiology and
the natural history of the organic creation. “Every vital process is a
miracle,” says Lorenz Oken,[3] “that is, in all essential respects an
unexplained phenomenon.” A last question will always remain unanswered
wherever the marvelous process of life is concerned, but our ignorance,
as well as our knowledge, of that phenomenon has its limits, and in
regard to the effects of alcoholic beverages it is precisely the most
knowable and most fully demonstrated part of the truth which it behooves
every child to know, but of which at present nine tenths of the adults,
even in the most civilized countries, remain as ignorant as the natives
of Kamtschatka who worship a divinity in the form of a poisonous
toadstool. A boy may be brought to comprehend the folly of gambling
even before he has mastered the abstruse methods of combination and
permutation employed in the calculus of probable loss and gain. We need
not study Bentham[4] to demonstrate that honesty is an essential basis
of commerce and social intercourse. By the standard of usefulness, too,
temperance primers might well take precedence of many other text-books.
Our school boys hear all sorts of things about the perils encountered by
the explorers of African deserts and Arctic seas, but next to nothing
about the pitfalls in their own path—no room for the discussion of
such subjects in a curriculum that devotes years to the study of dead
languages. Is the difference between the archaic and pliocene form of a
Greek verb so much more important than the difference between food and
poison?
With such a text as the monster curse of intemperance and its impressive
practical lessons, a slight commentary would suffice to turn thousands of
young observers into zealous champions of our cause, just as in Germany a
few years of gymnastic training have turned nearly every young man into
an advocate of physical education. The work begun in the school room
should be continued on the lecture platform, but we should not dissemble
the truth that in a crowded hall ninety per cent. of the visitors have
generally come to hear an _orator_ rather than a teacher, and enjoy
an eloquence that stirs up their barrenest emotions as much as if it
had fertilized the soil of their intelligence, just as the unrepentant
gamesters of a Swiss watering place used to applaud the sensational
passages of a drama written expressly to set forth the evils of the
gambling hell. Enthusiasm and impressiveness are valuable qualifications
of a public speaker, but he should possess the talent of making those
agencies the vehicles of instruction. The great mediæval reformers, as
well as certain political agitators of a later age, owe their success to
their natural or acquired skill in the act of stirring their hearers into
an intellectual ferment that proved the leaven of a whole community—for
that skill is a talent that can be developed on a basis of pure common
sense and should be more assiduously cultivated for the purposes of our
reform. A modern philanthropist could hardly confer a greater benefit on
his fellow-citizens than by founding a professorship of temperance, or
endowing a college with the special condition of a proviso for a weekly
lecture on such topics as “The Stimulant Delusion,” “Alcoholism,” “The
History of the Temperance Movement.”
Pamphlets, too, may subserve an important didactic purpose, and in the
methods of their distribution we might learn a useful lesson from our
adversaries, the manufacturers of alcoholic nostrums, who introduce
their advertisements into every household, by publishing them combined
with almanacs, comic illustrations, note-books, etc., _i. e._, not only
free, but winged with extra inducements to the recipient, and often by
the special subvention of druggists and village postmasters—till quack
annuals have almost superseded the old family calendars with their
miscellanies of pious adages and useful recipes. Could we not retrieve
the lost vantage ground by the publication of temperance year-books,
compiled by a committee of our best tract societies and distributed by
agents of the W. C. T. U.—with inspiring conviction to emulate the zeal
stimulated by a bribe of gratuitous brandy bottles?
Popular books must above all be _interesting_, and with a large plurality
of readers that word is still a synonym of entertaining. A German
bookseller estimates that the romances of Louisa Mühlbach have done more
to familiarize her countrymen with the history of their fatherland than
all historical text books, annals and chronicles taken together, and we
should not despise the aid of the novelist, if he should possess the
gift of making fiction the hand-maid of truth, and the rarer talent of
awakening the reflections as well as the emotions of his readers, for all
such appeals should prepare the way for the products of the temperance
press proper, by which we should never cease to invoke the conscience and
the reason of our fellowmen.
2. PROSCRIPTION.—That union is strength is a truth which asserts itself
even at the expense of public welfare, and in favor of those who combine
to thwart the purposes of the law or prevent the progress of needed
reforms. To the cabals of such adversaries, against whom the influence
of moral suasion would be powerless, we should oppose weapons that would
strike at the foundation of their strength, namely, the most effectual
means to diminish the number of their allies. Many of those who are
callous to the stings of conscience would hesitate to defy the stigma of
public opinion; others who are proof against all other arguments would
yield if we could make it their commercial interest to withdraw their aid
from the enemies of mankind.
That the prescription of alcohol for remedial purposes will ultimately
be abandoned, like bleeding, blue-pill dosing and other medical
anachronisms, is as certain as that the Carpathian peasants will cease
to exorcise devils by burning cow dung, and we can somewhat promote the
advent of that time by patronizing reform physicians in preference to
“brandy-doctors,” as Benjamin Rush[5] used to call them, and by classing
alcoholic “bitters” with the prohibited beverages. It is mere mockery to
prohibit the sale of small beer and permit quacks to sell their brandy
as a “digestive tonic,” and obviate the inconveniences of the Sunday
law by consigning their liquor to a drug-store. Does the new name or
the admixture of a handful of herbs change the effects of the poison?
We might as well prohibit gambling and permit musical lottery drawings
under the name of sacred concerts. Till we can do better we should permit
druggists to sell alcoholic bitters only on the certified prescription
of a responsible physician, all such prescriptions to be duly registered
and periodically reported to the Temperance Commissioner of a Board of
Health. Nostrum-mongers[6] will probably continue to fleece the ignorant
to the end of time, but they must cease to decoy their victims by
pandering to the alcohol vice.
3. HEALTHIER PASTIMES.—There is no doubt that a lack of better pastimes
often tends to promote intemperance. In thousands of our country towns,
equidistant from rural sports and the amusements of the metropolis
_ennui_ rather than ignorance[C] or natural depravity leads our young
men to the dram shop, and in recognizing that fact we should not delude
ourselves with the hope that reading-rooms alone could remedy the
evil.[D] The _craving after excitement_, in some form or other, is an
instinct of human nature which may be perverted, but can never be wholly
suppressed, and in view of the alternative we would find it cheaper—both
morally and materially—to gratify that craving in the comparatively
harmless way of the Languedoc[9] peasants (who devote the evening hours
to singing contests, trials of skill, round dances, etc.), or after
the still better plan of the ancient Greeks. Antiquity had its Olympic
Games, Nemean and Capitoline arenas, _circenses_, and local festivals.
The Middle Ages had their tournaments, May days, archery contests, church
festivals and guild feasts. The Latin nations still find leisure for
pastimes of that sort—though in modified, and not always improved, forms;
but in Great Britain, Canada and the United States, with their six times
twelve hours of monotonous factory work, and Sunday laws against all
kinds of recreations, the dreariness of existence has reached a degree
which for millions of workingmen has made oblivion a blest refuge, and
there is no doubt that many dram-drinkers use alcohol as an anodyne—the
most available palliative against the misery of life-weariness. We would
try in vain to convert such men by reproofs or ostracism. Before we can
persuade them to renounce their excursions to the land of delirium the
realities of life must be made less unendurable. They know the dangers
of intemperance, but consider it a lesser evil.[E] They know no other
remedy. Hence their bitter hatred of those who would deprive them of that
only solace. Shall we resign such madmen to their fate? I am afraid that
their type is represented by a larger class than current conceptions
might incline us to admit. Let those who would verify those conceptions
visit a popular beer garden—not as emissaries of our propaganda, but
as neutral observers. Let them use a suitable opportunity to turn the
current of conversation upon a test topic: “Personal Liberty,” “The
Sunday Question,” “Progress of the Prohibition Party.” Let the observer
retain his mask of neutrality, and ascertain the views—the private
views—of a few specimen topers. Do they deny the physiological tendencies
of their practice? The correlation of alcohol and crime? They avoid such
topics. No, nine out of ten will prefer an unanswerable or unanswered
argument; the iniquity of interfering with the amusements of the poor,
with the only available recreations of the less privileged classes. Take
that away and what can a man do who has no better pastimes, and can not
always stay at home? What shall he do with sixteen hours of leisure?
The question then recurs: How shall we deal with such men? How reclaim
them sufficiently even for the nobler purposes of the present life, not
to speak of higher aims? How save them from the road that leads down to
death? A change of heart may now and then work wonders, even the wonder
of a permanent reform; but we have no right to rely on constant miracles,
and for thousands in sorest need of help there is only one practical
solution of the problem: Let us provide an opportunity of better
pastimes—_not as a concession to our enemies, but as the most effectual
method to counteract the attraction of their snares and deprive them of
the only plausible argument against the tendencies of our reform_. We
need not profane the Sabbath by bull-fights. We need not tempt the poor
to spend their wages on railway excursions or the gambling tables of a
popular summer resort. But we should recognize the necessity of giving
them once a week a chance for outdoor amusements, and unless we should
prefer the Swedish compromise plan of devoting the evening of the Sabbath
to earthly purposes, we should adopt the suggestion of the Chevalier
Bunsen,[10] and amend the eight hour law by a provision for a _free
Saturday afternoon_. Half a day a week, together with the evenings of the
long summer days, would suffice where the means of recreation are near at
hand. Even the smallest factory villages could afford a little pleasure
ground of their own, a public garden with a free gymnasium, a footrace
track, ball ground, a tennis-hall or nine-pin-alley, for the winter
season, a free bath, and a few zoölogical attractions. In larger towns
we might add free music, a restaurant managed on the plan of Susanna
Dodds, M.D.,[F] and perhaps a museum of miscellaneous curiosities. Such
pleasure resorts should be known as _Temperance Gardens_. They would
redeem as many drunkards as all our prisons and inebriate asylums taken
together; they would do more: they would _prevent_ drunkenness. And above
all, they would accustom the working classes to associate the name of
Temperance with the conceptions of liberality, manliness, cheerfulness,
and recreation, instead of—well, their present misconceptions. We might
arrange monthly excursions, and the happiest yearly festival would be a
Deliverance Feast; an anniversary of the day when the city or village
decided to free itself from the curse of the poison traffic. Like some
of the Turner halls[11] of the German gymnasts, temperance gardens could
be made more than self-supporting by charging a small admission fee to
the spectator-seats of the gymnasium, and selling special refreshments at
a moderate advance on the cost price. The surplus might be invested in
prizes to stimulate competition in such gymnastics as wrestling, running,
and hammer throwing (“putting the club,” as the Scotch highlanders call
it), with reserved days, or arenas, for juvenile competitors. In winter
we might vary the program by archery, singing contests, and trials of
skill in various domestic fashions, with an occasional “spelling bee”—at
least for those who could be trusted to consider it a pastime, rather
than a task, for the purpose of recreation should not be sacrificed even
to considerations of utility. In regard to athletics, that apprehension
would be superfluous; the enthusiasm of gymnastic emulation has exerted
its power at all times and among all nations, and needs but little
encouragement to revive in its old might. It would make the Temperance
Garden what the Village Green was to the archers of Old England, what
the palæstra was to the youth of ancient Greece. It would supersede
vicious pastimes; it would regenerate the manhood of the tempted classes,
and thus react on their personal and social habits; they would satisfy
their craving for excitement in the arena, they would learn to _prefer
mechanical to chemical stimulants_.[G] Physical and moral vigor would go
hand in hand.
The union of temperance and athletic education has, indeed, been
the ideal of many social reformers, from Pythagoras to Jean Jacques
Rousseau,[12] and the secret of their failure was a mistake that has
defeated more than one philanthropic project. They failed to begin their
reform at the basis of the social structure. He who fears the hardships
of such a beginning lacks, after all, true faith in the destiny of his
mission. Perseverance and uncompromising loyalty to the tenets of our
covenant is to us a duty, as well as the best policy, for as a moral
offense treason itself would not be more unpardonable than doubt in the
ultimate triumph of a cause like ours. There is a secret which almost
seems to have been better known to the philosophers and patriots of
antiquity than to this unheroic age of our own, namely, that in the arena
of moral contests a clearly undeserved defeat is a step toward victory.
In that warfare the scales of fate are not biased by a preponderance of
gold or iron. Tyrants have reached the term of their power if they have
made deliverance more desirable than life; the persuasive power of Truth
is increased by oppression; and if the interests of a cause have become
an obvious obstacle in the road of progress and happiness the promoters
of that cause have to contend with a law that governs the tendencies of
the moral as well as the physical universe, and inexorably dooms the
unfit to perish.[H] The unmasked enemies of mankind have no chance to
prosper.
And even where their disguises still avail them amidst the ignorance of
their victims we should remember the consolation of Jean Jacques Rousseau
in his address to the Polish patriots: “They have swallowed you, but you
can prevent them from assimilating you.” Our enemies may prevent the
recovery of their spoil; they may continue to devour the produce of our
fields and of our labor, but we do not propose to let them enjoy their
feast in peace; whatever their gastric capacity, it will be our own fault
if we do not cause them an indigestion that will diminish their appetite.
“All the vile elements of society are against us,” writes one of our
lecturers, “but I have no fear of the event if we do not cease to agitate
the subject,” and we would, indeed, not deserve success if we should
relax our efforts before we have secured the coöperation of every friend
of justice and true freedom.
It is true, we invite our friends to a battle-field, but there are times
when war is safer than peace, and leads to the truer peace of conscience.
The highest development of _altruism_ inspires a devotion to the welfare
of mankind that rewards itself by a deliverance from the petty troubles
and vexations of daily life; nay, all personal sorrows may thus be sunk
out of sight, and those who seek release from grief for the inconstancy
of fate, for the frustration of a cherished project, for the loss of a
dear friend, may find a peace which fortune can neither give nor take
away by devoting themselves to a cause of enduring promise, to the
highest abiding interest of their fellowmen. At the dawn of history
that highest aim would have been: security against the inroads of
barbarism. In the night of the Middle Ages: salvation from the phantoms
of superstition. To-day it should be: deliverance from the curse of the
poison vice.
That deliverance will more than compensate all sacrifices. Parties, like
individuals, are sometimes destined to conquer without a struggle; but
the day of triumph is brighter if the powers of darkness have been forced
to yield step for step, and we need not regret our labors, our troubles,
nor even the disappointment of some minor hopes, for in spite of the long
night we have not lost our way, and the waning of the stars often heralds
the morning.
FOOTNOTES
[A] “All past legislation has proved ineffectual to restrain the habit
of excess. Acts of Parliament intended to lessen, have notoriously
augmented the evil, and we must seek a remedy in some new direction, if
we are not prepared to abandon the contest or contentedly to watch with
folded arms the gradual deterioration of the people. Restriction in the
forms which it has hitherto assumed, of shorter hours, more stringent
regulation of licensed houses and magisterial control of licenses,
has been a conspicuous failure. For a short time after the passing of
Lord Aberdare’s act, hopes were entertained of great results from the
provisions for early closing, and many chief constables testified to the
improved order of the streets under their charge; but it soon appeared
that the limitation, while it lessened the labor of the police and
advanced their duties an hour or so in the night, was not sufficient to
reduce materially the quantity of liquor consumed, or the consequent
amount of drunkenness.”—_Fortnightly Review._
[B] “The western Saracens abstained not only from wine, but from all
fermented and distilled drinks whatsoever, were as innocent of coffee as
of tea and tobacco, knew opium only as a soporific medicine, and were
inclined to abstemiousness in the use of animal food. Yet six millions
of these truest sons of temperance held their own for seven centuries
against great odds of heavy-armed Giaours, excelled all christendom
in astronomy, medicine, agriculture, chemistry and linguistics, as
well as in the abstract sciences, and could boast of a whole galaxy of
philosophers and inspired poets.”—_International Review_, December, 1880.
[C] “Education is the cure of ignorance,” says Judge Pitman, “but
ignorance is not the cause of intemperance. Men who drink generally
know better than others that the practice is foolish and hurtful.”
“It is not the most earnest and intelligent workers in the sphere of
public education that make their overestimate of it as a specific for
intemperance. While they are fully sensible of that measure of indirect
aid which intellectual culture brings to all moral reforms, they feel how
weak is this agency alone to measure its strength against the powerful
appetite for drink.”
[D] “In a primitive state of society field sports afford abundant
pastimes, our wealthy burghers find indoor amusements, and scholars
have ideal hunting grounds of their own; but the large class of our
fellow-citizens, to whom reading is a task rather than a pleasure,
are reduced to the hard choice between their _circenses_[7] and their
_panes_[8]. Even the slaves of ancient Rome had their saturnalia, when
their masters indulged them in the enjoyment of their accumulated
arrears of happiness; but our laborers toil like machines, whose best
recreation is a temporary respite from work. Human hearts, however, will
not renounce their birthright to happiness; and if joy has departed this
life they pursue its shadow in the land of dreams, and try to spice the
dry bread of daily drudgery with the sweets of delirium.”—_International
Review_, December, 1880.
[E] “But beside their excitative influence, strong stimulants induce a
lethargic reaction; and it is for the sake of this after effect that many
unfortunates resort to intoxication. They drink in order to get drunk;
they are not tempted by the poison-fiend in the guise of a good, familiar
spirit, but deliberately invoke the enemy which steals away their
brains.”—_International Review_, December, 1880.
[F] Author of “Health in the Household.”
[G] “I can not help thinking that most of our fashionable diseases might
be cured _mechanically instead of chemically_, by climbing a bitter-wood
tree, or chopping it down, if you like, rather than swallowing a
decoction of its disgusting leaves.”—_Boerhave._
[H] “The ultimate issue of the struggle is certain. If any one doubts
the general preponderance of good over evil in human nature, he has only
to study the history of moral crusades. The enthusiastic energy and
self-devotion with which a great moral cause inspires its soldiers always
have prevailed, and always will prevail, over any amount of self-interest
or material power arrayed on the other side.”—_Goldwin Smith._[13]
SUNDAY READINGS.
SELECTED BY CHANCELLOR J. H. VINCENT, D.D.
[_March 1._]
Repose now in thy glory, noble founder. Thy work is finished; thy
divinity is established. Fear no more to see the edifice of thy labors
fall by any fault. Henceforth beyond the reach of frailty, thou shalt
witness from the heights of divine peace, the infinite results of thy
acts. At the price of a few hours of suffering, which did not even reach
thy grand soul, thou hast bought the most complete immortality. Banner of
our contests, thou shalt be the standard about which the hottest battle
will be given. A thousand times more alive, a thousand times more beloved
since thy death than during thy passage here below, thou shalt become the
corner-stone of humanity so entirely, that to tear thy name from this
world would be to rend it to its foundations. Between thee and God there
will no longer be any distinction. Complete conqueror of death, take
possession of thy kingdom, whither shall follow thee, by the royal road
which thou hast traced, ages of worshipers.
* * * * *
The essential work of Jesus was the creation around him of a circle of
disciples in whom he inspired a boundless attachment, and in whose breast
he implanted the germ of his doctrine. To have made himself beloved “so
much that after his death they did not cease to love him,” this was the
crowning work of Jesus, and that which most impressed his contemporaries.
His doctrine was so little dogmatical that he never thought of writing it
or having it written. A man became his disciple, not by believing this or
that, but by following him and loving him. A few sentences treasured up
in the memory, and above all, his moral type, and the impression which
he had produced, were all that remained of him. Jesus is not a founder
of dogmas, a maker of symbols; he is the world’s initiator into a new
spirit.… To adhere to Jesus in view of the kingdom of God, was what it
was originally to be a Christian.
Thus we comprehend how, by an exceptional destiny, pure Christianity
still presents itself, at the end of eighteen centuries, with the
character of a universal and eternal religion. It is because in fact the
religion of Jesus is in some respects the final religion. The fruit of
a perfectly spontaneous movement of souls, free at its birth from every
dogmatic constraint, having struggled three hundred years for liberty
of conscience, Christianity, in spite of the fall which followed, still
gathers the fruits of this surpassing origin. To renew itself it has only
to turn to the Gospel. The kingdom of God, as we conceive it, is widely
different from the supernatural apparition which the first Christians
expected to see burst forth from the clouds. But the sentiment which
Jesus introduced into the world is really ours. His perfect idealism is
the highest rule of unworldly and virtuous life. He has created that
heaven of free souls, in which is found what we ask in vain on earth,
the perfect nobility of the children of God, absolute purity, total
abstraction from the contamination of this world, that freedom, in short,
which material society shuts out as an impossibility, and which finds
all its amplitude only in the domain of thought. The great master of
those who take refuge in this ideal kingdom of God is Jesus still. He
first proclaimed the kingliness of the spirit; he first said, at least
by his acts, “My kingdom is not of this world.” The foundation of the
true religion is indeed his work. After him there is nothing more but to
develop and fructify.
“Christianity” has thus become almost synonymous with “religion.” All
that may be done outside of this great and good Christian tradition will
be sterile. Jesus founded religion on humanity, as Socrates founded
philosophy, as Aristotle founded science. There had been philosophy
before Socrates and science before Aristotle. Since Socrates and
Aristotle, philosophy and science have made immense progress; but all has
been built upon the foundation which they laid. And so, before Jesus,
religious thought had passed through many revolutions; since Jesus it
has made great conquests; nevertheless it has not departed, it will not
depart from the essential condition which Jesus created; he has fixed for
eternity the idea of pure worship. The religion of Jesus, in this sense,
is not limited. The church has had its epochs and its phases; it has shut
itself up in symbols which have had or will have their day; Jesus founded
the absolute religion, excluding nothing, determining nothing, save its
essence.…
Whatever may be the transformations of dogma, Jesus will remain in
religion the creator of its pure sentiment; the Sermon on the Mount will
never be surpassed. No resolution will lead us not to join in religion
the grand intellectual and moral line at the head of which beams the name
of Jesus.—_Renan._[1]
[_March 8._]
Were you ever made to see and admire the all sufficiency of Christ’s
righteousness, and excited by the spirit of God to hunger and thirst
after it? Could you ever say, my soul is athirst for Christ, yea, even
for the righteousness of Christ? Oh, when shall I come to appear before
the presence of my God in the righteousness of Christ; oh, nothing but
Christ! nothing but Christ! Give me Christ, O God, and I am satisfied!
My soul shall praise thee forever. Was this, I say, ever the language of
your hearts? And after these inward conflicts, were you ever enabled to
reach out the arm of faith and embrace the blessed Jesus in your souls,
so that you could say, _My beloved is mine, and I am his?_ If so, fear
not, whoever you are—hail, all hail, you happy souls! The Lord, the Lord
Christ, the everlasting God is your righteousness. Christ has justified
you, who is he that condemneth you? Christ has died for you, nay, rather
is risen again, and ever liveth to make intercession for you. Being now
justified by his grace, you have peace with God, and shall ere long be
with Jesus in glory, reaping everlasting and unspeakable redemption
both in body and soul. For there is no condemnation to those that are
really in Christ Jesus. Whether Paul or Apollos or life or death, all is
yours if you are Christ’s, for Christ is God’s! … Oh think of the love
of Christ in dying for you! If the Lord be your righteousness, let the
righteousness of your Lord be ever in your mouth.… Think of the greatness
of the gift, as well as of the giver! Show to all the world in whom
you have believed! Let all by your fruits know that the Lord is your
righteousness, and that you are waiting for your Lord from heaven! Oh,
study to be holy, even as he who has called you, and washed you in his
own blood, is holy! Let not the righteousness of the Lord be evil spoken
of through you. Let not Jesus be wounded in the house of his friends; but
grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
day by day. Oh, think of his dying love! Let that love constrain you to
obedience! Having much forgiven, love much.—_Whitefield._[2]
[_March 15._]
But in proportion to the exaltation of the soul, and also in proportion
to its purity and spirituality—the very opposite extreme or condition;
in proportion to the impressibleness and moral sensibility of a man’s
spiritual nature, he has direct communion with God, as friend with
friend, face to face. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God.” There are thousands of instances—they occur in every church where
there are eminent Christians—of men and women who come to such a state
of spiritual purity and spiritual openness that they talk with God as
friend with friend. There is the direct operation of the Spirit of God
upon their soul. Not that they less than any others are blessed by the
spirit that applies the Word; not that they less than any others are
subject to the indirect operations of nature and society; but there is,
over and above these, also, for those that are able to take it, this
direct inspiration of God’s soul. Whether it be by thought, I know not;
or whether it be by moral feeling, I know not. “The wind bloweth where it
listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it
cometh and whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the spirit.”
I do not know the mode of divine agency; but of the fact that the human
soul in its higher spiritual relations is open; that there is nothing
between it and God, as it were; that it palpitates, as it were, under the
conscious presence of God, and is lifted up to a faith and a truth that
are not possible to it in its lower realms—of that fact I have no more
doubt than I have of my own existence.
There is such a thing yet as walking with God; there is such a thing yet
as being under direct divine inspiration. I do not think there is such
a thing yet as _authoritative_ inspiration. Apostles are over and gone.
Prophets have had their day. It is _individual_ inspiration that exists
now. It is authoritative only for the soul to which it comes, not lifting
that soul up into authority, and enabling it to say “Thus saith the Lord”
to any other soul. But I believe that still the divine Spirit works upon
the individual heart, and teaches that individual heart as a father
teaches a child.
Blessed are they that need no argument; and blessed are they whose
memories take them back to the glowing hours of experience, in which they
have seen the transfigured Christ; in which to them the heavens have been
opened; in which to them the angels of God not only have descended upon
the ladder, but have brought the divine and sacred presence with them.
Many a couch of poverty has been more gorgeous than a prince’s couch;
many a hut and hovel has been scarcely less resplendent to the eye of
angels than the very battlements of heaven. Many that the world has not
known; who had no tongue to speak, and no hand to execute, but only a
heart to love and to trust—many such ones have had the very firmament of
God lifted above them, all radiant. There is this truth in the Spirit
of God that works in the hearts of men directly, and in overpowering
measure. Blessed be God, it is a living truth; and there are witnesses of
it yet.—_Beecher._
[_March 22._]
Jesus Christ, in his dying discourse with his eleven disciples, in the
14th, 15th, and 16th chapters of John (which was, as it were, Christ’s
last will and testament to his disciples, and to his whole church), often
declares his special and everlasting love to them, in the plainest and
most positive terms, and promises them a future participation with him
in his glory in the most absolute manner, and tells them, at the same
time, that he does so to the end that their joy may be full. John xv:2:
“These things have I spoken unto you that my joy might remain in you, and
that your joy might be full.” See also, at the conclusion of the whole
discourse, chapter xvi:33: “These things have I spoken unto you, that in
me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of
good cheer; I have overcome the world.” Christ was not afraid of speaking
too plainly and positively to them; he did not desire to hold them in the
least suspense. And he concluded that last discourse of his with a prayer
in their presence, wherein he speaks positively to his Father of those
eleven disciples, as having all of them savingly known him, and believed
in him, and received and kept his word; and that they were not of the
world; and that for their sakes he sanctified himself; and that his will
was that they should be with him in his glory; and tells his Father that
he spake these things in his prayer, to the end that his joy might be
fulfilled in them: verse 13. By these things it is evident that it is
agreeable to Christ’s designs, and the contrived ordering and disposition
Christ makes of things in his church, that there should be sufficient and
abundant provision made, that his saints might have full assurance of
their future glory.
The apostle Paul, through all his epistles, speaks in an assured strain;
ever speaking positively of his special relation to Christ, his Lord, and
Master, and Redeemer; and his interest in, and expectation of, the future
reward. It would be useless to take notice of all places that might be
enumerated. I shall mention but three or four. Gal., ii:20: “Christ
liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the
faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” Phil.,
i:21: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” II. Tim., i:12:
“I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep
that which I have committed unto him against that day.” II. Tim., iv:7,8:
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which
the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me at that day.” … It further
appears that assurance is not only attainable in some very extraordinary
cases, but that all Christians are directed to use all diligence to
make their calling and election sure; and are told how they may do it.
II. Peter, i:5-8. And it is spoken of as a thing very unbecoming of
Christians, and an argument of something very blamable in them, not to
know whether Christ be in them or no. II. Cor., xiii:5: “Know ye not your
own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you except ye be reprobates?”
And it is implied that it is an argument of a very blamable negligence
in Christians, if they practice Christianity after such a manner as to
remain uncertain of the rewards, in I. Cor., ix:26: “I therefore so
run, not as uncertainly.” And to add no more, it is manifest that for
Christians to know their interests in the saving benefits of Christianity
is a thing ordinarily attainable, because the apostles tell us by what
means Christians (and not only apostles and martyrs) were wont to know
this. I. Cor., ii:12: “Now we have received, not the spirit of the world,
but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things which are
fully given to us of God.” And I. John, ii:3: “And hereby do we _know_
that we know him if we keep his commandments.” And verse 5: “Hereby
_know_ we that we are in him.” Chapter iii:14: “We _know_ that we have
passed from death unto life.” … Verse 19: “Hereby we _know_ that we are
of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before him.” Verse 24: “Hereby
we _know_ that he abideth in us, by the spirit which he hath given us.”
So chapter iv:13, and chapter v:29, and verse 19.—_President Edwards._[3]
[_March 29._]
Who has an understanding so exalted, so richly gifted, as to be able
to say what love is! Should I say it is a dew, I merely describe
its refreshing power. Should I say it is a star, I but describe its
loveliness. Should I say it is a storm, I but describe the impossibility
of restraining it. Should I say it is a ray of the sun, then I but
describe its hidden source. Should I say it is produced in the utmost
depths of the soul, when the breath of heaven unites with the heart’s
blood of the new man, that it is the breath of the soul, still I should
not have represented it, for I should but have said what it is in itself,
not what it is to others. Should I say it is the light of the sun, that
gives life and color to all creatures, still I should not have truly set
it forth, for I should but have said what it is for others, not what it
is in itself. Should I say it is a ray of the seven colors in a pure drop
of water, still I should not have described it, for it is not so much a
form as an odor, and a savor, in the depths of the human heart. Who has
such a lofty understanding, such deep thoughts, as to be able to say what
love truly is! The Scripture says—it is a flame of the Lord.[I] Yes it
is a flame, steady, bright, and pure; a flame which lights up and warms,
and shines through the heart into which it has entered, and then falls
on other hearts, and the more light and warmth it gives to others, the
brighter and stronger it burns in our breast.
But love, says the apostle, is greater than faith and hope, for beyond
that limit where faith and hope depart, love still remains.… For as the
door in this poor temporal life was but a little gate that did not always
stand open, but was often shut by a strong gust of wind; in eternity the
poor little gate will become a mighty portal, whose doors stand open
night and day, which no storm-wind will ever close, through which the
soul will freely pass into the heart of God and all his creatures. O,
since in this life love has made us so rich, though but a little brook,
which, when the sun shone fiercely, was almost dried up, how rich will
it not make us when the little brook has become the stream, yea, the
ocean, when it flows forth from the heart of God, in full spring-tide,
and sin no more builds a barrier in the heart of the creature, and there
will be a free and sacred giving and receiving between heaven and earth,
and among all that is in heaven and upon earth! O, who has so exalted an
understanding that he can truly say what love is!—_Tholuck._[4]
FOOTNOTES
[I] Canticles, viii:6, German version.
STUDIES IN KITCHEN SCIENCE AND ART.
VI. CABBAGES, TURNIPS, CARROTS, BEETS, AND ONIONS.
BY BYRON D. HALSTED, SC. D.
THE CABBAGE is a native of Europe, and grows wild along the sea coasts
of England. The wild plant lives for two years, has fleshy leaves, and
is so different from the cabbages of the garden as not to be recognized
as their parent. Under cultivation this one species of plant (_Brassica
oleracea_[1]) has produced the Savoy, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower,
borecole,[2] etc. A more wonderful plant and a more useful one is seldom
found in the whole range of the vegetable kingdom. The Romans did much
to extend the culture of the cabbage. In Scotland it was not generally
known until the time of Cromwell. Much improvement has been made in
American sorts of cabbages within the past fifty years. In the wild state
the cabbage has a hard, woody stalk, but the fine specimens in market
have only a small stem, bearing a large, compact head, of closely folded
leaves.
The first essential in the successful growing of cabbage is the
right kind of soil. It should be a sandy loam, with a gravelly, and
not a clayey subsoil. Soil that is naturally wet must be thoroughly
underdrained before being devoted to cabbage growing. The importance
of an abundance of well rotted manure can not be too fully impressed
upon the mind of any person contemplating the production of excellent
cabbages. Much that may be here said concerning the preparation of
the soil for growing cabbages applies with equal force to the other
vegetables treated in this article. Earliness is one of the leading
points to be gained in raising most garden crops. It is the man with the
first load of cabbages that gets the best price in the market. There is a
great deal of stress to be placed upon the proper selection of seed, but
seed is not all. The young plants of the earliest sorts must be fed, and
they require this food at an early stage in their growth, when chemical
changes are only slowly going on in the soil. In other words, early crops
need a far larger amount of manure for their satisfactory growth than
crops started in midsummer, when the soil is rapidly yielding up its food
elements. Early crops need to grow in cool spring weather, and therefore
should be abundantly supplied with food in an available form. Mr. Gregory
says in his excellent pamphlet on “How to Grow Cabbages,” “If the farmer
desires to make the utmost use of his manure for that season, it will be
best to put most of it into the hill, particularly if his supply runs
rather short; but if he desires to leave his land in good condition for
next year’s crop, he had better use part of it broadcast. My own practice
is to use all my rich compost broadcast, and depend on guano, phosphates,
or hen manure in the hill.” This view of heavy manuring is confirmed
by Mr. Henderson, in his “Farm and Garden Topics,” when he says: “For
the early cabbage crop it should always be spread on broadcast, and in
quantity not less than one hundred cart loads or seventy-five tons to the
acre.… After plowing in the manure, and before the ground is harrowed,
our best growers in the vicinity of New York sow from four to five
hundred pounds of guano, or bone dust, and then harrow it deeply in.”
The best sorts of cabbages for the early crop are: The Jersey Wakefield,
which has a head of medium size, close, and of a deep green color;
Early York, smaller, but quite early; Early Winningstadt, later, but an
excellent sort. Among the best late kinds may be named: Large Flat Dutch,
American Drumhead, Drumhead Savoy, and the Red Dutch. The last mentioned
is largely used in pickling.
The young plants are obtained from seeds in various ways, determined by
the numbers desired. When large quantities are needed for the early crop,
the seed is sown in a hot-bed or green-house, about February 1st, for the
latitude of New York City, and transplanted into other heated beds near
March 1st. In this way fine plants may be obtained by the first of April.
Many of the large cabbage growers prepare the soil, mark it in rows, and
drop the seed in the hills where the plants are to grow. In this way
much labor is saved, and there is the advantage of having several plants
in each hill, to guard against losses from cut-worms. Cabbages quickly
respond to good culture, and repay in large measure for every stirring of
the soil, either with the hoe or the horse cultivator.
The most troublesome insect enemy is probably the Cabbage-worm, which
in some localities has destroyed the whole crop. The mature insect
deposits its eggs upon the under side of the cabbage leaves. These eggs
soon hatch, and the green caterpillars begin their destructive work. No
poisonous substances can be applied without endangering the lives of
those who may afterward eat the cabbage. Hot water (160 degrees) has
proved effective in killing the worms, while not doing injury to the
plants. Flea-beetles have done some damage, as also the Cabbage-bug.
After the crop is grown the cabbages may be kept by burying them in
trenches, heads down. Three facts need to be kept in mind: Repeated
freezing and thawing cause rot; excessive moisture also induces decay;
and a dry air withers the head and destroys the flavor. About a foot of
earth is usually a sufficient covering.
Cabbage in the many forms it is presented upon the table is a most
wholesome and agreeable article of food. The farmer’s garden is not
complete without a full crop of cabbages. Any heads that are not needed
for the family table can be fed with profit to the farm live stock.
Poultry in particular, need some green food daily through the winter
season, and a cabbage now and then satisfies this natural craving.
TURNIPS.—The garden turnips belong to the same genus (_Brassica_) with
the cabbages, and are therefore closely related to them. The turnip is
supposed to be a native of England and other parts of Europe. It is not
known when this plant was first introduced into cultivation, and its wild
state is unknown. At the present time it forms one of the prominent crops
in all countries adapted to its growth.
The remarks made under the subject of cabbages concerning the free use
of manure need not be repeated here. Turnips grow freely upon a rich and
mellow soil, kept clean of all weeds. They do not require as fertile a
soil as cabbages, and when the earth is very rich, there is sometimes
an excessive growth of tops, without a corresponding development of the
roots. It is not necessary to say that cabbages are grown for their many
thick leaves, while turnips are raised for their roots. Plants as a whole
have many places for the storing up of nourishment. Sometimes it is in
the stems, as in the potato; in other cases the leaves or roots serve as
a store-house of accumulated substance. The plant makes these deposits,
to be drawn upon at some future time, either for further growth of the
same plant or for the early development of another. The root crops, for
example, are naturally plants of two year’s duration. The first season
is spent in gathering and storing up substance in a large root. During
the following year the starch, sugar, oil, etc., is withdrawn and used in
the production of a flower-stalk, upon which the crop of seeds is finally
borne, and after this the plant dies.
Turnips are mainly grown as a second crop, following early potatoes, etc.
The soil should be made fine and rich before the seed is sown. Rutabagas
may be sown from the 15th of June until the 15th of July. Yellow Stone,
Aberdeen, White Cowhorn and Strap-leaved Red-top are sown in the order
named, and from July 15th to the 1st or 10th of September. The seed is
sown in drills, wide enough apart to admit of horse cultivation. The
thinning of the plants in the row is of great importance. This work is
best done with a hoe, the workman chopping out the turnips and leaving
the plants about four to six inches apart in the row. In garden culture
the rows need not be so far apart. It is very essential to keep the weeds
down and the soil frequently stirred. The harvesting is simple. When
growth is completed the roots are pulled, then the tops cut off and the
turnips placed in root cellars or pits.
Turnips have an important place in a carefully planned system of farming.
The root crop is a means of securing a large amount of most wholesome
food for live stock, and at the same time it cleans the soil from weeds
and prepares it for the growth of succeeding crops.
The leading insect enemy of young turnip plants is the Turnip-fly. If the
seedlings can be protected until they get a good start in life there is
no further trouble. Equal parts of wood ashes and land plaster scattered
over the young turnip leaves is a good remedy. Air-slaked lime is also
employed in the same manner.
THE CARROT.—The wild carrot, _Daucus Carota_,[3] is a native of Europe
and has become naturalized in this country to such an extent as to be
ranked among the worst of weeds. The cultivated carrot was introduced
into England by the Dutch, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth (last half
of the sixteenth century), and has since been much improved and quite
generally grown. In its native or wild state the root is small, woody,
and of very little value as an article of food. All of our so-called
“root plants” in the wild state store up only sufficient food in the
root to meet the wants of the plant the coming season. This tendency
to accumulate has been developed under cultivation, and an excess is
stored up, which is appropriated by man. The plant has enjoyed more
favorable conditions for growth and been relieved in great part of the
struggle for existence that is constantly going on among wild plants. All
cultivated plants are living unnatural lives, being favored in various
ways, and when they are left to shift for themselves either die or drift
back, generation after generation, to the old original form from which
the ancestors were forced to depart. No plant is a better illustration
of this fact than the carrot. If left for only a few years, the fleshy
rooted plants of the garden degenerate into the coarse, woody-rooted
weeds of the pasture or hedge-row. We can not pass this point without
endeavoring to enforce the importance of keeping up all the most
favorable conditions of growth for garden vegetables, and carefully
selecting seed of plants that show the least tendency to degenerate.
The plot for growing carrots should be nearly level, otherwise heavy
rains may wash the seeds and young plants out of place. The soil should
be deep, rich and mellow. Carrots are no exception to the rule that root
crops flourish under high culture. When the barnyard fails to supply
sufficient manure, it is well to use guano, superphosphates, and other
quick acting fertilizers. If the soil is heavy, it is best to sow the
seed in ridges made by a plow, thus enabling a horse-weeder to pass
between the rows and not injure the young plants coming through the
surface. Use seed not over one year old, and it is well to sow some
radish seed with it, to come up first and show the rows, thus aiding in
the early cultivation of the soil. It is of the greatest importance to
keep the weeds down until the carrots get a good start. About six weeks
after sowing, that is, the middle of July, thin the plants, leaving them
four or five inches apart in the row. The carrots are dug and stored
like most root crops. If grown in large quantities, most of the labor
of getting the roots out of the soil is performed by horses. Carrots
keep well in long piles, six feet wide at the bottom, and of any length.
Ventilating holes need to be left at frequent intervals along the ridge
of the covered heap. There are several varieties of carrots, some of
them being earlier than others, while the size and general shape varies
greatly. The Long Orange, Short Horn, Early Horn and White Belgian are
among the leading sorts. Market gardeners are now favoring the shorter
sorts, the endeavor being to get them turnip-shaped, and thus save much
labor in digging the roots.
BEETS.—The species _Beta vulgaris_,[4] the parent of our common beets,
is a native of Egypt, and grows wild along the Mediterranean Sea at the
present day. The name is from the Celtic word _Bett_, meaning _red_, the
prevailing color of most beets. This garden vegetable has been generally
grown for six hundred years, and during that time has undergone many
important changes. Long ago the beet arrived at a state of perfection
beyond which it is not easy to pass. The Mangold-Wurzel[5] and Sugar
Beets are derived from another species. These are grown very extensively
in Europe and are worthy of far more attention by American farmers. The
Swiss Chard is another species of the genus _Beta_, largely grown in some
countries for the leaves, which only are used. They are stripped off and
used like spinach. The soil best adapted to the growing of beets is a
rich, sandy loam, rather light than otherwise. It should be thoroughly
pulverized by deep plowing, harrowing, etc., until a fine, mellow bed is
prepared for the seeds. The seeds are sown in rows, and the soil should
be pressed firmly upon them. For early beets the sowing may be done so
soon as the ground can be worked. The late sorts may be sown in July. As
soon as the plants are above ground a push-hoe should be passed close
to the rows. A few days later the beets need to be thinned to five or
six inches in the row. The removed plants make excellent greens. The
remaining work until harvest time is keeping the soil free from weeds
and loose by frequent hoeing. The rake is better than the hoe, if it is
used frequently and no weeds get large. Beets should be harvested before
frosts injure them. Handle carefully and store in a place where the
temperature is uniformly a few degrees above freezing.
The Egyptian is among the best early sorts; it has a dark blood color,
and much resembles a flat turnip in shape. The Long, Smooth, Blood Beet
is considered as ranking first for general family and market uses.
The Mangold-Wurzels are coarse beets of large size, grown as a field crop
for live stock. The White Sugar is a Mangold, free from much of the red
coloring matter of the red sorts. These larger varieties of beets are
very extensively grown in Europe for the manufacture of sugar, and it
would add to our agricultural wealth if they were more frequently a part
of a well planned system of rotation of crops in America. It may not pay
for us to make beet sugar, but the use of the roots as a wholesome winter
food for stock is profitable.
ONIONS.—The onion (_Allium cepa_[6]) has been cultivated from early
times, and its native country is unknown. As it is mentioned in sacred
writings it is supposed that its home is in the far East. Onions thrive
best on old ground, especially if it is a light, sandy loam. The onion
field should be nearly level, clear of weeds, and liberally supplied with
the best well-rotted manure; guano and superphosphates are excellent for
onions. Deep plowing is not necessary. The amount of seed to be used
depends upon the kind of onions desired. If they are to be pulled for
early market, more seed is required than when they are to attain their
full growth.
There are many varieties of onions grown from seeds. The Yellow Danvers,
White Portugal and Weathersfield Red are well known sorts, representing
the three prevailing colors. Onions are largely grown from sets, that is,
bulbs that have ripened while quite small, and when set out grow and form
large onions. The small size and early maturity are due to sowing the
seed thick. From thirty to forty seeds are sown to each inch of the row.
The sets are mature when the leaves begin to wither, and are then removed
and dried. In planting the sets they are placed in rows about four inches
apart.
The “Potato Onion” or “English Multiplier” is propagated by offsets. An
onion of this class, if planted in the spring, will produce a cluster
of small ones around it. These small onions will grow into large ones
the next season. There are several sorts of onions that bear clusters
of small bulbs upon the tops of the flower stalks, in place of seed
pods. The “Tree,” “Top,” and “Egyptian” onions are of this class. These
bulblets, when planted, produce large bulbs, and these latter, when set
out the following season, throw up stalks bearing bulblets.
Onions are ready for harvesting as soon as the leaves droop and become
dry. The bulbs should be well cured and placed in a dry, cool, storage
room. The crop is sometimes badly injured by smut, especially when onions
have been grown upon the same soil for many years. The onion maggot
causes some destruction. Guano and unleached ashes, when scattered over
the bed, have both proved of value.
The above is only a brief consideration of five of the leading garden
vegetables. The first four, namely: Cabbages, turnips, carrots and
beets, are to a great extent farm crops, well suited for live stock. The
composition of these is as follows:
DRY MATTER. ALBUMINOIDS. FAT. STARCH, SUGAR, ETC. ASH.
Cabbage 14.3 2.5 0.7 7.1 1.6
Turnips 8.5 1.0 0.15 5.8 0.8
Carrots 14.1 1.3 0.25 9.6 1.0
Beets 18.5 1.0 0.1 9.1 0.8
The turnips contain the least dry substance, and the cabbages are far the
richest in albuminoids. The carrot leads in starch, sugar, etc., followed
closely by the beets. There is very little poetry in any of the five
vegetables here briefly described, though they may enter into the daily
food of those who think of lofty things and write in the most elegant
style. They are the humble, unobtrusive toilers in the gardens of the
world.
THE PREPARATION OF VEGETABLES.
There are two laws underlying the preparation of all vegetables for the
table; the first is, cook until tender; the second is, do not cook until
mushy and the juice extracted. By overlooking the first you are left
with a rank, tough, indigestible dish; by overlooking the second with
one watery, and—worst of all culinary adjectives—juiceless. A time-table
regulating the exact number of minutes which each vegetable shall be
cooked can not be perfectly exact. Not rules, but judgment must decide
the limit of time. However a table of approximations may be of service to
amateur cooks whose experience has not yet taught them that essential of
successful cookery.
CABBAGE.—When young, requires an hour; winter cabbage, double that time.
TURNIPS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter turnips, two hours.
CARROTS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter carrots, two hours.
BEETS.—When young, three quarters of an hour; winter beets, four hours.
ONIONS.—When young, one hour; winter onions, two hours.
The temperature at which vegetables should be cooked is a point
of great importance. A little reflection should easily settle the
question, however. When young vegetables are tender, the juices are
easily withdrawn, continued stewing or soaking extracts all the flavor
and strength; when old they become tough, and only long stewing will
make them tender and bring out the juices. By putting young vegetables
into cold water we extract the juice before they begin to cook, and by
the time they become tender they are tasteless; but by putting winter
vegetables into cold water they are gradually softened, and by the time
they are cooked tender the juice is fully developed; hence the reason for
the rule which cooks have formulated: Put all young, green vegetables
into salted boiling water; all dried and winter vegetables into cold
water.
Add to your regard for these first principles a nice skill in draining
all the water from your cabbage, turnips, carrots, beets and onions, and
that most delicate of all cookery arts—the art of seasoning—and you can
not fail of toothsome entrées[1] and salads.
_Cabbage Salad or Slaw._—Remove from a firm, fresh cabbage the outer
leaves and slice fine. The simplest dressing is of sugar, salt and
vinegar. Mayonnaise[2] dressing may be prepared by taking the beaten
yolks of six eggs and into them beating, drop by drop, two tablespoonfuls
of salad oil; now alternate with every few drops of two tablespoonfuls
of salad oil, small quantities of vinegar until two tablespoonfuls of
vinegar have been used. Beat into this mixture, which should be very
smooth, one saltspoonful of salt and half as much cayenne pepper, set in
a cold place until wanted. A cooked mayonnaise dressing is made by adding
to each tablespoonful of boiling vinegar, the beaten yolk of an egg, and
cooking until stiff. Remove the mixture and stir in an ounce of butter.
When cool, season it with salt, pepper and mustard; then add sweet cream
until it is of the desired consistency.
_Hot Slaw_ is prepared by stewing chopped cabbage until tender, and then
adding a dressing of vinegar, butter, salt and pepper.
_Pickled Cabbage._—Chop, not too fine, a fresh cabbage, and season it
with white mustard seed, salt and pepper. Now pack this firmly into a
jar and add cold vinegar. Cloves should be sprinkled over the top to
prevent mould. Or, pack a layer of chopped cabbage alternately with a
layer of chopped onions, and having salted, allow it to stand for about
twenty-four hours. A dressing of one pint of vinegar, one cup of sugar,
and one teaspoonful each of ground mustard, black pepper, cinnamon,
turmeric, mace, allspice, and celery seed is made for each head of
cabbage and half dozen of onions, by scalding the vinegar and adding
sugar and spices. Into this dressing pour the cabbage and onions. Allow
them to simmer for half an hour, then put into jars.
_Boiled Cabbage._—Quarter a cabbage from which the outer leaves have been
removed, and which has been examined carefully for insects and slugs.
Boil until tender. Drain well, being careful to press out the water.
Boiled cabbage may be chopped, and a tablespoonful of butter, pepper and
salt stirred in, or it may be served with white sauce or drawn butter.
White sauce is made by cooking together one ounce of flour and two ounces
of butter, and, after adding a pint of milk allowing the mixture to
simmer slowly. Season with salt and pepper. Drawn butter differs from
white sauce only in having water or broth in place of the milk. Cabbage
may be boiled in water taken from the pot in which corned beef or pork is
being cooked. This seasons it nicely.
_Stewed Cabbage._—Chop cabbage fine and stew until tender. When “done”
add sweet milk sufficient for a dressing and allow it to cook for ten
minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Marion Harland gives this recipe
for a stewed “stuffed cabbage:” “Choose for this purpose a large, firm
cabbage. When perfectly cold bind a broad tape about it, or a strip of
muslin, that it may not fall apart when the stalk is taken out. Remove
this with a thin, sharp knife, leaving a hole about as deep as your
middle finger. Without widening the mouth of the aperture excavate the
center. Chop the bits you have taken out very small; mix with some cold
boiled pork or ham, or cooked sausage-meat, a very little onion, pepper,
salt, a pinch of thyme, and some bread crumbs. Fill the cavity with this,
bind a wide strip of muslin over the hole in the top, and lay the cabbage
in a large sauce-pan with a pint of ‘hot liquor’ from boiled beef or ham.
Stew gently until very tender. Take out the cabbage, unbind carefully,
and lay in a dish. Keep hot while you add to the gravy, when you have
strained it, pepper, a piece of butter rolled in flour, and two or three
tablespoonfuls of rich milk or cream. Boil up and pour over the cabbage.”
_Baked Cabbage._—The cold boiled cabbage left over from dinner is very
nice baked. Chop it fine and add a dressing made of beaten eggs and milk
and seasoned with salt and pepper. Put it into a buttered baking dish,
and having strewn the top with bread crumbs or rolled crackers, bake it
brown.
_Fried Cabbage._—Another excellent dish to be prepared from cold boiled
cabbage is fried cabbage. Chop the cabbage fine and stir in a little
melted butter, two beaten eggs, a little cream, pepper and salt, and cook
until slightly brown.
_Boiled Turnips._—Boil until tender and drain dry. After mashing them
smooth, being careful to rub away all hard lumps, stir in a tablespoonful
of butter and season with salt and pepper. If it is preferred to cut them
in slices, they are nice served with white sauce or drawn butter as a
dressing. A little vinegar added to the dressing is by many considered
an improvement. Young turnips are nice served whole with either of these
sauces.
_Stewed Turnips._—An excellent way of warming over boiled turnips is to
add sufficient milk to them to stew thoroughly, and then to season with
pepper and salt.
_Baked Turnips._—Cold boiled or sliced turnips may be “done over” by
putting them into a baking-pan, covering with bread crumbs, moistening
with milk, and then baking in the oven. Freshly boiled turnips, sliced
thin, may be cooked in the same way.
_Boiled Carrots._—If carrots are small and young they may be boiled
whole, but if they are large they should be split into two or three
pieces; when cooked they may be served with butter, salt and pepper, or
with white sauce, like sliced boiled turnips.
_Mashed Carrots._—Boiled carrots are very nice mashed with a large
spoonful of butter, a little cream, and seasoning of pepper and salt
worked into them. Serve as you would mashed potatoes.
_Fried Carrots._—Cold boiled carrots, or those which have been parboiled,
may be sliced and fried brown in butter. They must be seasoned, of
course, with pepper and salt.
_Stewed Carrots._—Parboil carrots for three quarters of an hour. Put them
into a stew-pan and pour on them a teacupful of broth with seasoning of
pepper, salt and butter, and stew until they are tender. A little cream
and a lump of butter may be added and the whole allowed to boil up.
_Boiled Beets._—In preparing beets for the kettle they should be washed,
but not cut. When done, rub off the skin and slice. Butter, pepper and
salt should be added for seasoning. If you like a dressing of vinegar
put a tablespoonful of butter into half a cup of vinegar, add pepper and
salt, and boil before turning upon the beets.
_Baked Beets._—Slice your beets and place in a baking pan with butter,
pepper and salt. Allow about twenty minutes longer for baking than
boiling. This method preserves much of the juice of the vegetable which
is lost in boiling.
_Stewed Beets._—Parboil your beets until nearly done, rub off the skin
and slice. Into your stew-pan pour enough milk to cover the beets, add a
little butter, salt and pepper, and simmer slowly until they are done.
_Boiled Onions._—Onions may be laid in cold water half an hour before
cooking. Boil them in two waters until tender. When cooked, drain
carefully and serve with butter, salt and pepper. Boiled onions are nice
with a dressing of drawn butter.
_Baked Onions._—Choose large onions for baking, and after peeling boil
for an hour. Drain them thoroughly and about each wrap a piece of
buttered tissue paper, bake them until they are quite tender, then remove
the paper and brown in the oven, basting with butter. Serve them with
drawn butter.
_Stewed Onions._—Onions which have been parboiled may be stewed in milk
sufficient to cover. When done, a dressing of hot cream and butter,
seasoned with salt and pepper, may be poured over them; or they may be
chopped fine, and the cream, butter and seasonings be stirred in.
_Fried Onions._—Slice into small strips and fry in butter, taking care to
brown them evenly. Season with salt and pepper. Onions sliced thin and
fried in hot fat are called _Saratoga onions_.
THE CIRCLE OF THE SCIENCES.
PHYSICS.
In the science of material things, mechanics takes account of forces
that act on masses from without; physics, of those that act from within,
or which, in some way, modify the condition of the bodies themselves.
Both branches were, till recently, included in the vaguely comprehensive
term “Natural Philosophy,” and the partial separation observed in modern
treatises and text-books gives a little more distinctness to the facts
presented. Under the former the earth is contemplated as a planet,
obedient to the universal law of gravitation, and moving regularly in
its orbit. The mechanism of the system is complete; the measure and
adjustment of all the parts perfect.
GEOLOGY,
As a physical science, considers the earth apart from the solar system
with which it is connected, and takes account of its materials and
structure, and the forces that unite them. Its position in the group is
about midway between mechanics and chemistry, being closely allied to
other natural sciences, while its phenomena are occasionally varied by
both mechanical and chemical agents.
PHYSIOGRAPHIC GEOLOGY