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Eleventh Day

"It is a drizzling, chilly, forlorn kind of day, Aunt Jane; don't you think it would be a good time to have a dumpling?" "Excellent; I know you've been wanting to try your hand at that, Gracie, for a long time. We'll not only make a dumpling, but we'll write down all kinds of winter recipes that you can make by yourselves on Saturday mornings, if your lessons haven't tired you too much during the week." "Oh, I know we shall want to; see if we don't! And at any rate, we shall want to know how, whether we do it or not." "But you will soon find out that to do it well you must keep in practice. It is just like playing the piano, or drawing, in that respect. You will soon lose your skill if you don't exercise it." "But we have made all our plans for a regular cookingclub, and we can't forget. We'll write you about it, and tell you the nice things we make." "That will be the next thing to eating them," said Aunt Jane. "I know a good many ladies who really enjoy sitting down and poring over a cookery book, though they haven't the least intention of making the things. I shall take a great deal of pleasure in thinking of the nice desserts and tea-dishes and lunches you make." "Who's going to cook to-day, Aunt Jane?" "Only the older girls. Boiled dough of all sorts belongs to the department of pastry, and that, you know, the little ones haven't begun upon yet. So if you don't mind the rain, you may go for Rose and Edith." "Papa says that people who are afraid of rain must be made of either sugar or salt, and think they are going to melt. So as I seem to be composed of pretty solid flesh, I think I'll go."

It didn't take long to collect the party, who had been groaning a little over being obliged to spend the day indoors, and were glad of something to do. Aunt Jane received them in the parlor, where they were to write their recipes. She had in her hand a very old-looking brown book, which when opened showed pages yellow with age, covered with fine manuscript in faded ink. "Oh, what's that, Aunt Jane?" asked Grace. "My mother's old, old receipt-book, that I remember ever since I was a little child. It must have been begun at least fifty years ago, as I see her maiden name in it, and added to, year by year, for a great many years. Your mother surprised me by bringing it out this morning, when I thought it had long ago passed over to the 'things that were." "Are we going to make any of the things in it?” "Not to-day, perhaps, but you may write down some of the directions if you want to, and try them some time by yourselves. Here is one of the very oldest."

No. 142-A CHEESE-CAKE.

Four eggs, half a gill milk, a quarter of a pound butter, the same of powdered sugar, two ounces grated bread, two tablespoonsful brandy and the same of wine, a teaspoonful of rose-water, the same of mixed mace, cinnamon and nutmeg, a quarter of a pound currants. Prepare puff paste first; have the currants very clean and reserve some for sprinkling over the cheese-cake; sprinkle the remainder with flour; stir the butter and sugar to a cream; grate the bread and prepare the spice; beat the eggs very light; boil the milk and then add to it half the eggs (beaten together) and boil the mixture till it becomes a curd, stirring frequently with a knife; then mix in the bread, and afterward stir all together, including the currants, into the butter and sugar; then add the remaining half of the egg, and by degrees the liquor and spice. Line patty-pans or pie dishes with puff paste, fill with the mixture, sprinkling the reserved currants over the top; then bake. "What an elaborate receipt!" exclaimed Rose. "Not more so than some we have made. It is because the directions are so very full that it seems long. It is an old English recipe, and a real English housekeeper never cares how much time she spends on any thing that is to be very nice. Here we like to get through everything as fast as possible, and use our time for something else." "I have often read about cheese-cakes in English stories," said Edith, "such as Miss Edgeworth's and Mrs. Barbauld's, and the children always seemed to think them a great treat." "Here is another recipe, which seems very much like our modern 'floating island."

No. 143-A GOOD CREAM.

To one quart of boiled milk add the yolks of six eggs well beaten up with four tablespoonfuls white sugar; (if not sweet enough for your taste you can add more sugar;) let the milk stand a few minutes before you put in the eggs. Beat the whites of the eggs to a froth and then stir them in the hot cream; they will rise to the top and then may be taken off and drained, and after your cream is dished you can put the froth on the top. You boil whatever flavor you choose in the milk, and call your cream after the flavor. "That's simple enough, any way," said Rose. "Yes, it's very simple, but I think our taste now-adays requires that the eggs and milk should be thickened together by a little boiling. But here's something I know you never saw."

No. 144-GINGERBREAD-NUTS.

Two pounds flour, one of butter, half a pound brown sugar, one quart sugar-house molasses, two ounces ginger, one teaspoonful allspice, one of cinnamon, and the same of cloves. Cut up the butter in the flour, crush the sugar fine with the rolling pin, mix it with the flour, and afterward add the spice and molasses. Flour your pie-board and take the dough, a large handful at a time, and knead it in separate cakes; then knead all very hard together for a long time. Cut the lump in halves, roll it out in two even sheets about half an inch thick, and cut in little cakes the size of a cent. Bake on buttered tins in a very moderate oven, as gingerbread is more apt to scorch than any other cake. "Why, what mites of cakes, Mrs. King," said Edith. "Hardly larger than a thimble." "Oh, they didn't have nickel cents in those days," replied Mrs. King. "This means an old-fashioned copper cent, more like the top of this little canister in size. I remember the gingerbread-nuts perfectly, and very good they were; but it required a world of patience to make them. Another way, and one I liked better, was to roll them into little balls like marbles. Here is a recipe that I used to think very good. I don't know how I should like it now."

No. 145-HONEY CAKE.

Four cups flour, four eggs, two cups honey, one teaspoonful pearlash, nutmeg or cinnamon to taste. "What is pearlash, Aunt Jane?" "A kind of alkali formerly used in cooking, which was afterward supplanted by saleratus, and now by soda.

Pearlash is a refined preparation of potash, which is made from wood ashes." "Then it must be what they make soap with," said Grace. "Yes, the same thing. Lye is an alkali in a liquid form. From this dear old receipt-book I can give you a direction for making soap, if you like-both hard and soft." "Thank you, my dear aunt, we won't trouble you so long as we can buy it ready-made. Perhaps if we are ever cast away on a desert island and have nothing to wash with, we may be glad to have the receipt." "Now it is time to think of our dumpling," said Aunt Jane.