VISITORS FOR MARION.
The weather was now getting much warmer, the days were long and sunny,
and the evenings light until late; so the girls began to make certain
changes in their housekeeping arrangements. To begin with, the choral
society which they had been attending on Wednesday evenings all the
winter ceased in April, so they had late dinner every evening except
Saturday and Sunday. There was some talk of their joining a tennis
club; but both Jane and Ada were generally too tired to play after
their day’s work, and, as the prudent Marion pointed out, if they
joined a club it would mean that they would rush off to play directly
they came home for as long as it was light, and get no solid food until
past eight o’clock, when it would be too late to see about dinner.
Jane thought that this would not matter in the very least, as it would
soon be getting too hot for anyone to think of eating; but she was
over-ruled by her two elders, who insisted that, as none of them got a
solid meal in the middle of the day, it would be a fatal thing if the
one big meal were postponed altogether. So she was obliged to give in
and be content with what tennis she could get at friends’ houses on
Saturday afternoons. This was not very much, and she had a good long
walk to get it; but she thought it was better than nothing.
Early in May came a short note from Mrs. Holden to Marion.
“May 6th.
“MY DEAR MARION,—Are you ever at liberty to receive visitors, or
are you perpetually busy? Do let me know if I may come over and see
you next Saturday afternoon. I want to have a talk with you, and I
have to come up to West Hampstead to look over some houses in your
neighbourhood. I have written to a house agent for some addresses.
Our neighbourhood here is getting so terribly built over, and it
is too low down to suit Arthur, who suffers occasionally from
bronchitis, so we are thinking of making a move in your direction,
as Hampstead stands high. I shall be so glad to be near you, and I
hope you will return the compliment.
“Do not think I intend to worry you to go house-hunting with me,
for I should not dream of allowing such a thing. Arthur is too busy
to come over with me; but my brother Tom is home on leave just now.
I forget if you ever saw him—I think he was at school when you used
to stay with us. It will do him good to have some sensible domestic
occupation such as house-hunting. So I shall come and have a
delightful cosy chat with you on Saturday if you will have me, and
he shall look over the houses whilst we are discussing the affairs
of the State. (By the way, why did some scones I made last week
come out of the oven _freckled_? Don’t forget to tell me.) Whilst
we are discussing the affairs of the State, Master Tom can look
over the houses and select the most suitable for me to inspect when
you are tired of hearing me chatter.
“In haste,
“Yours ever,
“MADGE HOLDEN.”
Marion laughed heartily over this letter, and read it out to the other
two.
“What does she mean?” asked Ada in a perplexed tone. “How can the
scones be freckled?”
“I have a vague recollection of something of the sort happening to
some of mine once,” said Jane; “but I have known so many accidents and
failures that I can’t possibly recollect them all. Oh, I know! How
stupid of me! Of course, the carbonate of soda and cream of tartar were
not properly mixed into the flour, and so wherever there was soda a
brown patch was the result, as it always makes things darker when used
alone.”
“Bravo, Jennie!” said Marion. “I shall tell Mrs. Holden that you will
write yourself and reveal the mystery of the scones. I am sorry you and
Ada will not see her and her brother as you are going to the concert.”
“Have you ever seen her brother Tom?” asked Ada.
“No, I don’t remember having done so. But I heard of a schoolboy
escapade of his years ago. His mother was entertaining visitors on a
dark winter afternoon just at dusk; they had rung for the gas to be
lighted, but the servant was a long time in coming. In the meantime
they were considerably startled by a light that kept flashing in at
the window and then disappearing. When everybody was well startled the
cause was discovered. Master Tom and some boon companions were at the
schoolroom window above amusing themselves by drawing a dark lantern up
and down. Hence the phenomenon.”
“How like a boy!” said Jane sedately.
On Saturday afternoon Mrs. Holden appeared, resplendent in a bonnet
made of primroses, and with her a tall, sunburnt young fellow, whom she
introduced as her brother, Tom Scott.
“But you must not stay, you know, Tom,” said the lively lady. “You
really must go and see about those houses, and we shall only bore you
with our domestic talk.”
Mr. Scott smiled languidly. He was ensconced in Jane’s own
particular rocking-chair and showed no disposition to move, but
looked appreciatively round the sunny little sitting-room and at his
bright-eyed little hostess, who sat by the work-table at the window
with a bunch of sweet-smelling spring flowers in a vase beside her.
“I find this climate so trying after India,” he remarked.
“Nonsense, Tom! Marion, he is too lazy for anything! How far is it to
Thornicroft Gardens?”
Marion said that it was only two streets away.
“We must have tennis,” said Mrs. Holden; “so, if the houses are nice,
one of those might do, as I understand the gardens at the back have
several courts. I am thankful Tom is an engineer: so if there is
anything radically wrong with the house he will detect it, so I have
not that responsibility! Now, Tom, do start off; and, if you are good,
Marion will give you some tea when you get back! Be quick!”
So off he went, and for the next half-hour Mrs. Holden poured her
domestic experiences into the ear of the sympathetic Marion.
“Tell me about calves’ heads,” she began eagerly.
“Whatever do you mean?” cried Marion, laughing. “You are like a child
asking for a story. ‘Tell me about fairies.’”
“Well, you know what I mean!” she said impatiently. “I want to know all
about them, how much they cost, and if it would be feasible to have
one, and if they are nice. But I won’t have one if the cook is likely
to make a hash of it!” she said energetically.
“Well, your cook might make a hash, and a very good hash too; but that
is no reason why you should not have one. You need only have half a
head, which will cost you about 3s. or 3s. 6d. Have it boiled the first
day and served with white sauce over and bacon round alternately with
slices of tongue, and hashed the second day.”
“But don’t you have to skin it, or do something like that first? I
read something about skinning it in my cookery-book, and it puzzled me
dreadfully.”
“All that is done at the butcher’s. It is as well to blanch the head
by putting it in boiling water, bringing the water to the boil, and
throwing it away. Then put it in a pan, with enough water to cover and
vegetables to flavour, and cook gently about two and a half hours.”
“That was just what I wanted to know. I understand about skinning the
tongue and cutting it in pieces to put round the dish; but what are you
to do with the brains?”
“Tie them in muslin and cook them for half an hour separately in water
or stock, divide in small pieces and put round the dish. Before you go
I will give you a nice recipe for hashing the remains. By the way, was
the dinner list of any use?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Here is this week’s then,” said Marion, as she went to her desk and,
opening it, gave the list to Mrs. Holden. “You see we have just been
having calf’s head ourselves.”
DINNER LIST.
_Sunday._
Veal and Ham Pie.
Salad.
Citron Cream.
(Supper.) Anchovy Eggs.
_Monday._
Spring Stew.
Gooseberry Fool.
_Tuesday._
Lettuce Soup.
Roast Leg of Lamb.
Mint Sauce.
New Potatoes.
_Wednesday._
Cold Leg of Lamb.
Salad.
Swiss Roll.
_Thursday._
Calf’s Head with White Sauce.
Lemon Jelly.
_Friday._
Hashed Calf’s Head.
Cheesecakes.
_Saturday._
Cod and Mayonnaise.
Cucumber.
Cold Sponge Cake Pudding.
“You see, we have cold dishes rather often now the weather is getting
warmer,” said Marion as Mrs. Holden put down the paper. “Here is the
food bill:—”
£ s. d.
1 lb. fillet of veal 0 1 0
Half a ham, 3½ lbs. 0 2 4
Leg of lamb (Australian) 0 3 1
Half a calf’s head 0 2 9
1¼ lb. neck of veal 0 1 0
Cucumber 0 0 4
2½ lb. new potatoes 0 0 5
3 lb. potatoes 0 0 3
2 lb. cod 0 1 0
Sponge cakes 0 0 6
Milk 0 1 9
Pint of gooseberries 0 0 3
1-pint packet lemon jelly 0 0 4
Small bottle olive oil 0 0 5½
½ lb. tea 0 0 10
1½ lb. butter at 1s. 4d 0 2 0
½ lb. loaf sugar 0 0 1¼
2 lb. Demerara 0 0 3½
1 lb. fat, for rendering 0 0 2
Fourteen eggs 0 1 0
Four lettuces 0 0 8
Eight loaves 0 2 4
============
£1 2 10¼
============
“By the way, I have made a discovery. Oh, I know it will be no news
to you; but I was proud of it, I assure you! It is, that there are
several quite cheap pieces of veal that one can buy—breast of veal, for
instance, and neck—for 8d. a pound. I always had looked upon veal as
quite dear. But I don’t know how to cook these joints. You can’t make
veal cutlet of them, can you?”
“No; they would not do for that. But the ‘Spring Stew’ that you see
there is a dish made of neck of veal, new potatoes, spring onions and
lettuce.”
“Many thanks. It is of no use trying to get my people to eat cold meat;
they simply won’t. Tom is so accustomed to the good cooking of his
native servants that he is a dreadful handful. I am so glad you taught
me how to make a good curry; that at least is always appreciated.”
“Is he graciously pleased to commend it?” asked Marion, laughing.
“Yes, indeed. He has a most extraordinary opinion of your talents, as
he said he did not know such a thing as a good curry was to be had in
England. Was that not rude? Now, I will not talk ‘cooking’ any more. Do
play me something. I see the piano is invitingly open. It is ever so
long since I heard you. Or will it tire you?”
“I am not tired at all,” said Marion, and went to the piano. “What
shall it be? Something calm and soothing, I suppose, and not at all
suggestive of domestic worries.”
So Marion played a delicious “Lullaby” of Rubinstein’s, and Mrs. Holden
lay back in the rocking-chair to listen—a graceful figure in blue.
“Thank you so much!” said a voice behind her as she finished.
Marion started slightly, and looked round to find that Mr. Scott had
come back again, and had been let in by Abigail without her noticing
the fact.
Mrs. Holden laughed mischievously.
“I have not had such a treat since I went to India,” said her brother.
“Pray do not stop. You don’t know how much I enjoy it,” and he sat
down prepared to listen to more.
So Marion played on. This time it was the “Spinn lied” from the “Lieder
ohne Worte.”
“Tom, you are positively improving,” said his sister critically, as she
finished and Abigail came in with the tea-things. “Just before you went
away, I remember taking you to a Saturday concert at St. James’s Hall,
and you annoyed me by coming out in the middle. Marion’s playing seems
to have worked a sort of charm.”
“Oh, nonsense, Madge, you must not give me such a bad character! I am
very fond of music really, Miss Thomas,” he said, turning to Marion;
“but I always prefer it at home. Somehow, a concert always makes me
feel very sleepy towards the end. I don’t know if it is the heat, or
what.”
“You ought not to mind the heat, surely,” she suggested, smiling.
He laughed.
“Well, at all events, it is not nearly so enjoyable.”
“Well, what about the house, Tom?” asked his sister, as she drank her
tea and ate Marion’s crisp little home-made cakes appreciatively.
“Green Lawn, in the next street but one, has just the number of
rooms you want. Everything about it seems all right, and there is an
excellent tennis lawn. Could you move by Lady Day?”
“Yes, I must. Did you see no others?”
“What was the good of looking at others until you had signified that
this would not do,” he remarked sagely.
“Marion, can you come and look at it with us?”
“Yes, certainly,” and she went to put on her hat.
“You need not stay longer if you want to be off,” said Mrs. Holden to
her brother when Marion had left the room. “We shall manage quite well
by ourselves. I know men don’t care for fussing about over houses, and
you said you wanted to go down to the club.”
He seemed to think the club could wait, for he made no haste to be off;
and soon Marion came in again, looking very charming in her pretty hat
with pink primulas.
So the three walked through the sunny streets to Green Lawn. It did not
take very long to look over the house, and Mrs. Holden was delighted
with it, and quite decided to take it if her husband liked it as well
as she did.
“So we shall soon be having you for neighbours, and how delightful that
will be, my dear! I only hope I shall not worry you by incessantly
running in to ask advice. I really must be self-denying, and not run
into the Rowans too often. Come and have dinner with me next week and
talk it all over. Which day can you come? Come next Thursday if you
can. You don’t mind coming so far now the evenings are so light, do
you? Tom can see you home.”
Marion protested that she was quite equal to seeing herself home; but
Mrs. Holden insisted, and so it was arranged. By this time they had
arrived at the station from which Marion’s friends were going back to
Camberwell, so they said good-bye.
When she got home, she remembered that Mrs. Holden had not got the
recipe that had been promised; so she wrote it out at once and posted
it to her lest she should want to use it before they met next Thursday.
_Hashed Calf’s Head._—Cut the remains of a cooked calf’s head into
neat pieces. Chop a large onion and cook it in three tablespoonfuls
of vinegar for ten minutes; add a dessertspoonful of Chutney and two
tablespoonfuls of flour mixed with a gill of cold stock. Stir until it
boils, stir in a pint of the stock in which the head was cooked; season
well and colour with browning. Put in the slices of head, and simmer
very gently for half an hour.
(_To be continued._)
FRUIT PUDDINGS.
By the Author of “Summer Puddings,” “Savouries,” etc.
So many people get tired of the ordinary way of serving fruit simply
stewed or as a tart, that I hope the following collection of recipes
of different and dainty ways of utilising fruit may be used to vary
somewhat the monotony of a wholesome article of diet.
_Apple Pudding._—Six apples peeled and cut up in pieces, one quince,
half a teacupful of water, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, the rind of
half a lemon, one teaspoonful of lemon juice and a piece of butter the
size of an egg. Put all into an enamelled pan and stew to a soft pulp
and rub through a sieve. If the apples have been cooked very soft and
are free from lumps, then it is not necessary to put them through a
sieve.
Into the pulp stir three eggs, well beaten, a quarter of a pound
of stale bread or cake crumbs grated, a dash of nutmeg, and two
tablespoonfuls of milk. Pour into a tin mould previously well buttered
inside and dusted with crumbs and bake in a good oven for quite an
hour, turn out and serve with fine sugar over the top.
_Apple Soufflé._—Butter the outside of a pie-dish and cover with pastry
made as follows—
Six ounces of flour, three ounces of butter, two teaspoonfuls of sugar,
and the yolk of an egg. Rub butter, sugar, and flour together, then
mix to a paste with the beaten yolk and a little water. Roll out in
the usual way, cut to the size of your dish, cover, and put into a
good oven to bake, and slip off, and then you have a dish of paste.
Meanwhile peel and core one and a half pounds of apples, and stew them
with a quarter of a pound of sugar and juice and grated rind of half a
lemon till quite soft; then stir in half-a-dozen ratafia biscuits and
a penny sponge cake crumbled down, the yolks of two eggs and a drop of
water. Cook on the fire again for a minute or two, then pour into the
pastry-dish and spread over the top the whites of the three eggs beaten
to a stiff froth with a tablespoonful of sifted sugar, dust sugar on
the top and ornament with ratafia biscuits and preserved cherries to
taste, then place in a nearly cold oven to slightly brown.
_Apple Fritters._—Make a batter of a pint of milk, two well-beaten
eggs, and flour enough to make a thick batter. Pare, core, and chop up
into small pieces six apples, mix into the batter and fry in spoonfuls
in boiling lard deep enough to cover the fritters. Fritters can also be
made by slicing pared and cored apples, dipping them into thick pancake
batter and frying them in butter.
_Apple Dumplings._—Six apples pared and cored, six ounces of dripping,
one pound of flour, one teaspoonful of baking powder, one quarter of a
teaspoonful of salt, two ounces of sugar.
Put flour, powder, and salt in a basin, rub in the dripping lightly,
then make into a stiff paste with water. Divide into six pieces, roll
out and place an apple on each, fill up cores with sugar and work paste
round each apple till covered, brush over with milk, place on a greased
tin and bake from half an hour to three-quarters.
_Apple Meringue._—Stew six apples pared and cored till soft, then stir
in a small piece of butter. When cold add a cup of grated bread-crumbs,
the yolks of two eggs, a tip of salt, sugar to taste, and a small cup
of milk.
Butter a dinner plate, cover it with short crust or puff paste, make a
fancy border, and bake till done. In the middle pour the apple batter,
and heat up. Take the whites of the eggs, beat stiff with half a teacup
of fine sugar and a few drops of essence of lemon, pile on the top of
apples to cover them, place in oven to set but not to brown. Sprinkle
pink sugar over the top and serve hot or cold.
_Apple Pudding_ (American).—One quart of milk, four eggs, three cupfuls
of chopped apples, the juice of a lemon and half the grated rind,
nutmeg to taste and a pinch of cinnamon, one quarter of a teaspoonful
of carbonate of soda dissolved in a little vinegar, flour enough to
make a stiff batter. Beat the yolks of the eggs very light, add the
milk and seasoning, then the flour; stir hard for five minutes, then
beat in the apples, then the whites of the eggs beaten to a stiff
froth, and lastly mix the soda well in. Bake in two square shallow
tins, buttered, for one hour. Cover with a buttered paper when half
done to prevent it hardening. Eaten hot with a sweet sauce.
_Apple Meringue Pudding._—One pint of stewed apples, three eggs (yolks
and whites beaten separately), a half cupful of fine sugar and one
dessertspoonful of butter, one teaspoonful of nutmeg and cinnamon
mixed, one teaspoonful of lemon juice. Add sugar, spices, butter and
yolks to the apples while hot, pour into a buttered dish and bake for
ten minutes. Cover while still in the oven with a meringue made of the
stiffly-beaten whites, two tablespoonfuls of castor sugar and a little
almond essence. Spread it smoothly and quickly, close the oven again
and brown slightly. Eat cold with cream and sugar.
_Apple Omelette._—Six apples, one tablespoonful of butter, nutmeg to
taste, and a teaspoonful of rose-water.
Stew the apples as for sauce, beat them smooth while hot, adding the
butter, sugar and nutmeg. When perfectly cold put in the yolks beaten
well, then the rose-water, and lastly the whites whipped stiff; pour
into a warmed and buttered pie-dish. Bake in a moderate oven till
delicately browned.
_Brown Betty._—One cupful of bread-crumbs, two cups of sour chopped
apples, half a cupful of sugar, a teaspoonful of cinnamon, and two
tablespoonfuls of butter chopped into small bits.
Butter a deep pie-dish, put a layer of apples at the bottom, sprinkle
with sugar, cinnamon and pieces of butter, then crumbs, then another
layer of apples, sugar, and so on till the dish is full, having
crumbs on the top. Cover closely and bake in a moderate oven for
three-quarters of an hour, then uncover, sprinkle with a little sugar
and brown quickly.
_Apple Batter Pudding._—One pint of rich milk, two cups of flour,
four eggs, a teaspoonful of salt, a quarter of a teaspoonful of soda
dissolved in hot water.
Peel and core eight apples, and arrange them closely together in a
pie-dish. Beat the above batter till light and pour it over the apples
and bake for one hour in a good oven. Unless the apples are very sweet,
the cores should be filled up with sugar.
_Apples and Tapioca._—One teacupful of tapioca, six juicy sweet apples,
a quart of water and some salt.
Soak the tapioca in three cups of lukewarm water in a pan, put the pan
back on the range and let it just keep warm for several hours till the
tapioca becomes a clear jelly. Peel, core, and pack the apples together
in a dish, fill the centres with sugar, cover and steam in the oven,
then put the tip of salt into the tapioca, and pour it over the apples,
return to the oven and leave till quite cooked—about an hour. Serve
with cream. If there is any objection to the appearance of the pudding,
then a beaten white of egg can be spread over it just before removing
from the oven.
_German Apple Tart._—One and three-quarter pounds of apples, quarter of
a pound of dates.
Peel, core, and cut the apples into small pieces, stone and quarter the
dates, and put them in a pan with a very little water and stew till
soft. Then stir in two tablespoonfuls of sugar, one ounce of butter,
one teaspoonful of ground cinnamon, half a teaspoonful of ginger. Beat
smooth, then turn out to cool.
Make a short crust of half a pound of flour, two ounces of castor
sugar, one teaspoonful of cinnamon, a small teaspoonful of baking
powder, and a quarter of a pound of butter. Rub all together and work
into a dough with the yolk of one egg and half a teacup of milk. Divide
the dough into three pieces, roll out for bottom and sides a little
thicker than the piece for the top. Line tin, fill up with the apple
mixture, smooth on top, then lay third piece of crust over it, pinching
the edge to the side crust, then bake in a moderate oven for half an
hour. Beat the white of the egg to a stiff froth, sift in two ounces of
castor sugar, a drop or two of lemon juice, and then spread evenly on
top of the tart when nearly cool, and leave to set.
_Apple Mould._—One and a half pounds of apples, pare, core, and cut in
quarters, put in a pan with half a pound of sugar and four ounces of
butter. Stew till soft, but keep the pieces whole, lift them on to a
sieve and let the syrup run into a dish. Butter a pudding-dish, line
it with thin fingers of bread, lay in the pieces of apple, cover with
slices of bread, brush over with egg, pour over some syrup, and bake in
a moderate oven for three-quarters of an hour. Turn out and serve with
sauce.
_Apple Charlotte._—One and a half pounds of apples, peel, core, and
cut up, and put on to stew with very little water and three ounces of
sugar. When soft rub through a sieve, then put back into the pan, add
four ounces more sugar and simmer till thick, taking care not to let
the pulp burn.
Cut some stale bread into fingers, dip into melted butter, and arrange
them round a well-buttered pudding mould, lapping one edge over the
other and pressing firmly down, cover the bottom with rounds of bread
in the same way, shake in some bread-crumbs, fill up with the apples,
place more rounds of bread on the top, put into the oven and bake for
an hour. Turn on to a dish, let it stand a few minutes, then draw
off the mould and dust sugar over. By allowing the mould to remain a
little, there is less danger of it sticking.
Before leaving the recipes for apples, I would like to give an
excellent way of stewing. Pare the apples, quarter them, take out the
cores, and cut the quarters into thin slices, then put them into a pan,
put sugar over them to taste, shake it down through the fruit, then put
a piece of white paper over, tucking it well round the edges to keep in
the steam, then put on the lid, and set the pan at the side of the fire
and shake occasionally till it heats.
The steam generated by the moisture of the apples is quite enough to
prevent burning, and if care is taken in shaking the pan well there
is no fear of burning. Stew slowly till soft. By using no water, the
flavour of the fruit is much finer and the apples become a clear jelly
and are most delicious to taste.
_Gooseberry Fool._—Take a quart of green gooseberries, put them, after
topping and tailing them, into a pan with four ounces of loaf sugar
and stew them as directed for the apples—without water. When soft, rub
them through a sieve, and then stir into the purée half a pint of thick
cream, stir all together, add more sugar if required, then when cold
pour into a crystal dish. Garnish with whipped cream on the top.
_Gooseberry Pudding._—One pint of nearly ripe gooseberries, six slices
of stale bread toasted, one cupful of milk, half a cupful of sugar, and
one tablespoonful of melted butter. Stew the gooseberries very slowly
so as not to break them. Cut your bread to fit your pudding-dish, toast
the pieces, then dip while hot into the milk, then spread with butter,
and cover the bottom of the dish with some of the pieces; put next a
layer of the cooked gooseberries, sprinkle with sugar, then put more
toast, more fruit and sugar, and so on till the dish is full. Cover
closely and steam in a moderate oven for half an hour. Turn out and
pour a sauce over it or eat with cream.
_Gooseberry Flummery._—Take six ounces of rice and wash it, then put it
into a pan with two pints of milk, and let it cook slowly till it gets
soft and thick, then add two ounces of sugar and stir well. Let it get
cold, then butter or oil a mould and cover the inside with a layer of
the rice about an inch thick, leaving the inside empty till the rice
sets. Then fill up with gooseberries stewed thick and soft with sugar
and no water, and let it stand till quite stiff and cold. Turn upside
down carefully—just before serving a little time—and draw off the mould
carefully so as not to break the rice. This can also be steamed after
putting in the fruit and served hot with custard sauce.
_Flummery of Currants._—Take two pints of red currants, squeeze
them and take the juice, add a little raspberry juice, and add
three-quarters of a pound of loaf sugar and six ounces of rice flour to
it; cook all over the fire and stir continually. Boil for five minutes,
then pour into a mould which has been dipped in cold water. Let it
stand till cold and set, then turn out.
_Raspberry Mould._—Have a mould—a plain one—or a small bowl lined with
strips of stale bread, packing them closely together. Then have some
raspberries stewed with enough sugar to sweeten them, pour into the
mould, cover the top over with fingers of bread, seeing that the mould
is quite full, put a plate or saucer on the top with a weight on it and
set away till cold. Then turn out. This is all the better for being
made the day before it is required so as to give it time to soak up
all the juice into the bread; then it is a pretty pink shape. Any kind
of fruit—juicy—can be used in this way, but raspberries or red currants
are the nicest.
_Lemon Pudding._—Take two tablespoonfuls of cornflour and wet it with
a little cold water, then add boiling water to make a thick starch,
add five spoonfuls of sugar, the juice and grated rind of two lemons
and the yolks of two eggs well beaten. Pour into a dish and bake for
ten minutes, then heap the stiffly-beaten whites on the top, dust with
sugar and brown very lightly in the oven for a few minutes.
_Compôte of Oranges._—Pare the rind of three large oranges, cut the
fruit across into halves, removing the pips and white skin and pile the
fruit in a glass dish. Boil the thin rind with half a pint of water
and six ounces of loaf sugar, till the syrup is clear and thick, then
strain it over the fruit. Garnish with little spoonfuls of whipped
cream.
_Pear Meringue._—Take a dozen and a half pears, peel them and put into
a pan with sugar and a very little water and stew till tender, but
avoid breaking them. Lift them carefully and arrange them neatly in a
glass dish. Boil up the syrup with more sugar till thickish, add a drop
or two of cochineal—pear syrup is always rather a dull colour without
it—and pour over the fruit. Take the whites of three eggs and whip them
very stiff, add six spoonfuls of castor sugar, spread roughly over the
pears and brown slightly in the oven or with a salamander.
_Rhubarb Cheesecake._—Stew a bunch of green rhubarb till soft, then
beat it smooth with a fork, draining nearly all the syrup away. Add
to the pulp the juice of two lemons, grated rind of one, a scrape of
nutmeg—if liked—and sugar to taste, then add three well-beaten eggs.
Have a pie-dish lined with pastry—or a deep plate will do—pour in the
mixture and bake in a moderate oven for three-quarters of an hour.
Serve cold.
_Prune Pudding._—Half a pound of prunes. Stew till soft, then remove
the stones and add sugar to taste, then the whites of four eggs beaten
stiff, put into a dish and bake to a pale brown.
_Orange Fool._—Juice of four sweet oranges, three eggs well beaten, one
pint of cream, sugar to taste, and a very little cinnamon and nutmeg.
Put all into a pan and set it on the fire till the mixture is as thick
as melted butter, keep stirring, but do not let it boil, then when a
little cool pour into a glass dish. Serve cold.
_Queen’s Mould._—Skin and cut into small pieces enough young rhubarb to
fill a quart measure, put into an enamelled pan with one and a quarter
pounds of sugar, the grated rind and juice of half a lemon, and twelve
almonds blanched and chopped; boil fast and skin and stir till all is
a rich marmalade, then add half an ounce of gelatine dissolved in two
tablespoonfuls of boiling water. Rub a mould with oil, pour in the
rhubarb, and set aside to cool and set. Turn out and serve with cream.
_Rhubarb Scone Pudding._—Make a plain paste of half a pound of flour,
two ounces of butter, a dessertspoonful of castor sugar, a pinch of
salt, one teaspoonful of cream of tartar, half a teaspoonful of baking
soda. Rub all together, then add enough sweet milk to make a nice firm
paste, roll out the size of a dinner plate, butter the plate, lay the
paste on and ornament the edge, and bake in a moderate oven till done.
Fill the middle with stewed rhubarb—any stewed fruit is good—cover with
the whites of two eggs beaten stiff, dust the top thickly with castor
sugar and return to the oven to let it get a pale brown.
CONSTANCE.
[Illustration: ROSES.
[_From photo: Photographic Union, Munich._]
LAST YEAR’S ROSES.
BY HELEN MARION BURNSIDE.
[Illustration]
They are only last year’s roses
In my mother’s china jar,
But their faint and subtle fragrance
Wafts me back to days afar;
And I shut my eyes a moment,
And I see my mother pace
Up and down the garden borders
With her stately old-world grace,
While she plucks the perfumed petals
Beds of glowing bloom among—
Oh, the roses, those sweet roses,
That I knew when I was young!
They are only last year’s roses
In the old blue china jar,
But I hear my mother singing
Songs I loved in days afar:
Yes, you sing amongst your roses,
And I grant them fresh and fair,
But they are not quite so fragrant
As those old-world roses were;
And your songs are not as sweet, dear,
As the songs my mother sung,
And you cannot make pot-pourri
As they used—when I was young!
AN ALBUM OF BIBLE PLANTS.
It occurred to me some years ago that, out of the five or six hundred
trees and plants mentioned in the Bible, the leaves of a large
proportion of them might easily be obtained, dried and arranged in
an album, and that such a collection might be made of great use in
teaching Scripture, illustrating the meaning of various texts and
throwing a light on obscure passages.
My album of Bible trees and plants is often in request. I have found
great pleasure in collecting the various specimens, and am still hoping
to secure other trees to complete the book.
At first one is apt to think that only eastern travellers can obtain
the requisite leaves, but a little reading and Bible study will
convince us that very many Scripture trees and plants are quite common
and easily obtainable by anyone living in the country. I subjoin a list
with which we may begin our book.
Almond (Eccles. xii. 5); apple (Cant. ii. 3); ash (Is. xliv. 14);
barley (Ruth i. 22); bay-tree (Ps. xxxvii. 35); box-tree (Is. xli. 19);
bramble (Jud. ix. 14); briar (Mic. vii. 4); chestnut (Gen. xxx. 37);
corn (Num. xviii. 27); elm (Hos. iv. 13); fig-tree (Hab. iii. 17); flax
(Ex. ix. 31); hazel (Gen. xxx. 37); heath (Jer. xvii. 6); mint (St.
Luke xi. 42); mulberry (2 Sam. v. 24); mustard (St. Luke xvii. 6);
myrtle (Is. lv. 13); nettle (Is. xxxiv. 13); oak (Gen. xxxv. 8); poplar
(Gen. xxx. 37); rose (Is. xxxv. 1); rue (St. Luke xi. 42); thistle
(Hos. x. 8); vine (Ps. lxxx. 8); wheat (Ex. ix. 32); willow (Lev.
xxiii. 40).
A perfect leaf or spray of each tree should be laid between sheets of
blotting-paper under a heavy weight, the paper being dried daily till
the specimen is fit for insertion in the book.
The album may be of any shape we please, but about twelve inches by ten
is a convenient size and shape for the purpose.
When the leaf is fixed upon the page the Latin and English name
should be written beneath it and the Bible texts in which the tree is
mentioned.
I find strips of gummed paper hold the leaves most securely, and
instead of using stamp paper, which is too thin for the purpose, I
cover a sheet of notepaper with thick gum and allow it to become quite
dry; it is then ready for use and affords a large supply of tiny strips.
Besides the texts I like to add all I can learn as to the history and
uses of the various trees and plants.
Here, for instance, is what I have said about the myrtle.
“A plant originally brought from Western Asia but found wild as far as
Afghanistan.
“Among the ancients the myrtle was sacred to Venus; wreaths of it were
worn by the victors in the Olympic Games and by Athenian magistrates.
It was used in medicine, in cookery, and by the Tuscans in the
preparation of myrtle wine, called Myrtidanum, for which purpose it
is still employed. It is, however, chiefly used in perfumery, and a
highly-scented astringent water called Eau d’Ange is distilled from its
flowers. The berries have a sweetish, powerfully aromatic taste, and
are eaten in a fresh state or dried as a condiment.
“The wood is very hard and beautifully veined.”
This account I compiled and wrote in my album about twenty-six years
ago; perhaps at the present time many interesting facts about the
myrtle might be added.
I have as yet only spoken of the trees and plants of easy attainment
for our Scripture album.
The more interesting specimens such as carob-tree, olive, pomegranate,
palm, oleander and others we may have to wait for, but with a little
thought and patience we may probably obtain even these.
If we happen to know any friends who are going to the South of France
for the winter, they could easily dry some sprays of the plants I
have mentioned, and bring them to us in due time. If we have not this
possibility, then in some florist’s greenhouse we may probably meet
with oleander and palm, and we may grow our own carob-trees by sowing
the seeds in pots, and, sheltered indoors from frosts, they will
germinate and in time produce leaves large enough for the album. The
carob is not mentioned by name in the Bible, but it is a Palestine
tree, and yields the long, brown pods which were the “husks that the
swine did eat” in the parable of the Prodigal Son; they are also
believed to have been the “locusts” which, combined with “wild honey,”
sustained John the Baptist in the wilderness, hence they are often
called St. John’s bread. If we desire to buy the pods, they may be
obtained at most corn-dealers under the name of “locusts.”
Another interesting fact about the carob is this, that the brown hard
seeds used to be the weights jewellers employed for weighing gold,
silver, and precious stones; hence the term “carat” with which we are
familiar.
The long curved pods are eaten, when fresh, by the poorer inhabitants
of Palestine; they are sweet and nourishing.
The oleander is not mentioned in the Bible, but it grows so abundantly
on the shores of the Lake of Galilee that it has some claim to be
admitted into our collection.
We may grow our own date plants if we will; the seeds germinate very
freely at any season if kept warm and in moist soil. The leaf does not
divide into leaflets and become a true palm leaf until the plant is
five or six years old. If we desire a small palm leaf that will at once
fit into our book, any florist will be able to supply a spray of _Cocos
veitchii_, a small and delicate species just fitted for the purpose.
These hints will enable anyone to form a Bible plant album, and many a
pleasant and profitable hour may be spent in reading about each tree,
and the passages in Scripture where they are mentioned are invested
with a deeper interest from our knowledge of many facts which otherwise
would have passed unnoticed.
E. B.
NOCTURNE.
FOR PIANOFORTE.
MATTHEW HALE.
[Music]
SHEILA’S COUSIN EFFIE.
A STORY FOR GIRLS.
BY EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN, Author of “Greyfriars,” “Half-a-dozen
Sisters,” etc.