Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 3, 1876, Page 11

THE CHICAGO RIBUNE: SATURDAY, JUNE 3, 1876—TWELVE PAGER. = THE IIOME. A Plensant Little Story for Homo-Wives. fivo Ways of Using Up Stale Bread to Advantage. Mrs. Dr. Hale Discourses on the Subject of Soup. How to Bake Bread with “ Attrition” Flour. prolled Mutton---Fricd Beefstenk -Irish Btew, Etc. ALITTLESTORY FOR HOME-WIVES, 1y Aunt Emma. Step out with me, dear lady; no, not you dressed fn tralling sk and fine laces, whose Jittle oncs are under the carc of nurse; you havo lelsurc aud ennuf; hut the overburdened woman with little oncs clluging to her skirts, gerhaps one In arms,—como with me. “nuf it §s Saturday afternoon and I cannot leave my children,” you will say; ‘““the dinner dishes are pot washied, and thero are & few Luttons to put on, and socks to mend, before the Sabloth comes." 7 But come with me, not ina bodily tut o spiritual scnsc, my fricnd, Into the base- ment-kitchen of a brick teneinent on ——strect, We are not Intrusive; she does not see ug,—tho woman standing there,—for ehe I3 dreaming drcams; but all the timo the small hands are fiing,In andout of her work, and she, too, fs do- Ing that never-cnding washing dishes, Let mo fotroduee you to QGrace Darling. A weary {ittle woman, liollow-cyed, not pretty a bit, you willgay. Bhels looking plainer thuan usual to- day In her kitchen dress; the trace of something unpleasont is on lier face, for ot such thnes sho a8 that far-away, wistful look, as if sho would 1ike to iy somewhers and bo at rest. Some lit- (1o thing bas happened; but little things mako up tho sum of 1ifo to one whoso round Is the eame day after day. * It {a a short winter's day, and the red gpot of exclicment burns deoper on Grace's cheek us sho thinks “My work i3 not done.” The chnmbera and parlors are swept ond dusted, tho children bathed, baking done, dining-room in order, and now dinner dishes must bo flnlshied, stove polished, and ¥itchen serubbed. I have known the day whon Grace would hinve nll the worle dono bofore din- ner time, but she is older now, and u worgan who haa nlways atood at the houschold wheel, who lizs borne and nourished four chlldren,— ono gono Lome to the angels, ah! that was'-. the » hardest - wrench of all,— must losc much of the clastivity from her step, and the work drags a little this after- noon,> Two boys of Oand B are playlug hide- and-seck, and turning tho dining-room topsy- turvy agaln, while tho baby, almost 3—beautl- ful as one of Ler mother’s dream-children,—ls clinging to her dress, and erying, * Mamma, tis mo} mamma, toke Dalsy, please do,”* But mamma must not stop, cven Lo take Dalsy; sho must push through, for It is the last day of the week. She wished she wos done; sho wanted to arrapge Dalsy's curls and take lier up one min- nic; sho wanited to get off her kitchen dress, and put on the soft gray one she had been sit- ting up Iate making the lust two wecks, and some Inco around her ncck, and ourl her buiry and put a bit of color shout her somewhere, + Now, just_right here I know my old-time 4riend, Miss Reformer, will rlsc and ¢xplain the cause of ail n( hieroine's trouble. It was not the raising babivs or housework, but the night- sewlng on that tralling dress, with its (ine kuifc- ?luallng and pufling, that drove tho roses from her checks and dimmed the onco bright cyes, Well, my dear madam, Grace would “say you wero scneible, and she would liko {ml. and not call you an old meid, either; and, (1t was her lelsure ufternoon, and you were up in hier parlors, you would like her, oh g0 much, and never thiuk of her dress. But Grace docs not work In tralling drees or coract, aud she alwuys keeps a nent wnlklnfi-drcu Juat escapin) the ground, yet Grace will be Gracd, and could not be happy In the clothes you wear. There was o ond to her ll.'lflll¥. Dalsy's dainty drcascs must be made, and T those boys," they were always threatening to come out at thc knees, 1 must tell you, dear mndam, another of @roce’s trying sins. The time was when the world sufd she had Fenlun and of a fine order, ‘but she gathered a mylud or two and marricd— for love; but the old dreams would come hack rometimes, and she must write. 8o nights after the duys of il the garments wera mado and the songas grew, while, perhaps, something of the woman's life went futo them; she thought 0 heraclf sometimes. To-day she Jooked at the small brown hands whose bones at tho knuckles and wrists showed hard work, and thought of letters rocelved to-day whose extracts run thus: “Why will you wear out your precl 1ife do- {og work enough for two'women? Your place isnot fn the kitchen, you who hold such a glork ous glft in your handg, such beautiful 'mm:r of expregsfon. Why wulrynu persist in this sthen the mass are only it for hewers of wool and drawera of water 1! And another sald: #You will die! and your husband will have to have mother wife, your children another mother” Ah, that eut her to the quick; he would morry ogain, and the children have' snother mother; but she put the thought from her with determi- natfon, and. went on with her work. Almost through now. “I will not die,” sho sald, “I1 will livo long enough to sco flmy grow tobe s woman,» You ask why she did not follow out her hus- band's and friends’ wishes, and keep the ser- yant usunlly kept by persons with thelr income. Well, thero were many reasons. Clreumstunces tad not been very propltious since they both dad by some of ‘thelr ambitfons to get marrfed. Now o better way seemed open- bog, 8he wanted to bo free from debt, t Juye n home of thelr own, uand radually ‘guthcr around them tha things they th lovid, und a girl was a great expense. The wasto und breakajzo contact with herself and chil- dren worrled her. You say she was foolish; perhaps #o, but she was focly attuned. The il no matter how coarse and strong, could anly dopart of her work, Their ncifidency and lack of brains aften sent her into the kiteli- e fn desperation, when the children, tho eew- ing, tho t) ouumfgm:ts of the household, called for every moment of her time.and her talents, Well, 1t she bad to be head for the servant, and keeptho children out of hor way, why, she'd tatber do all herself, beeause she “could’ droam pleasant thoughts In her kitchen,—I think It Was licr composing-room,—with no_foreign ele- ment around; and, os for her children, they ¥ere part of herself; they did not disturb her, “You never get any more done when you keep 8 gervant thay when you don't,” wis ‘the come- mon,- complaint of - bLer ° liege - lord, lo 'mever kuew' bLow that \ hurs and crippled her, - for sho did¥ not like W complatn, and ho could not underatanid, t Lo mcaut to bo good, no doubt, andonl fald it fn the spirit’ that women can do afl thingy, bear all things, and swler all things. * Now do not thiuk that I am going to tlso tulrafcdy. 1 expect we all huve o llttle bit of tragedy i our Ives—for this i only o glmpss o ‘;{-dly life that lay in ono aftcrnioon. bave ald thiat Graee marsied for Jove, and will tell you right here that sho nover repented of it} 1 Do, never. Bhe had known much love, too; bu bos r‘;{l “thcm lsxznmu gmmu Dflhh“l uw‘u;'r in niz; she needed sympatby; the howe- ark! a ring at the door-bell,—the basement door, 4 Quly an ua.;::nt, vrht‘flmr' Low much of 1y tma thoy do take,!sho saldy but it was not 916 of those, but the Lright face of & woman of :0.‘ though louking much youuger, that made "‘ Ip&mfuwc. Tt s a grind, good facc; enc k tells you thero are wolls of n{mput‘ly in Ler bagom; that her presence will afways briny ol N On, \Aunt, Lizrlothr” why " clild, *felt ¥ you N peeded me; It las been hh:hi work to get here, R0 much <o done, but I feared that cither you or the ildren'were sick. My milsslon {3 among the sk anq dylnE. you know.” * Well, "Aunt {zaty, all deatty'ta ot physical; wo are all well, t [ needed you, novertheless; und now you 426 hore, you must stay all afternoon, and fake 8; pleaso doM the wrups ure Yald aslde, the [retty dress is put on with Tho laco. tiey aud "hl not of crimeon in the hair, and thess” two Yomen slt down together,—thess wumen who ."0 et only two or three times before, but ho are go trrcatatibly drawh together In uni- l‘?“’ They aro bavig s royal time. Little sy is on the elder ludy'e lup, nestling down ¢lose whilo ahe slngs,—oh, gmr sho &lnge!— hlflmtllhu boys have stupped thelr noisy play to ls- Iy 'he youngror woman's hund fsin Nicrs,and sha fl‘nun;lr. hon they talk of religion, polit [Pl'my‘ 111 they couis down to thelr awn liv kiiow {ust whera you staud, my dear, for {‘:{f.b&:&: \fllluunwu muthu&, tou, with three Lllu| aruun ovvarch ‘i Bunt Le w vl B 1 liow she liod gone out of a lomon of plenty, the Aame a8 Grace hiad dong, and marrfed for love. Muarried for love, thotgh wealth, tou, was thelrs, and her choles was everything that tond parents could wish, Misfortuncs aud disasters, it would make tny story too lung to tell, followed them, “They kiiew Jossea by speculation, by fire, by death. Your beautiful boys were hori to them, dearer than thelr uwn livee. The reaper Deathy came and gathered them one by 8lie de- ]nlclc(l In powerlul langunge the scene when the st ano was taken, Oh how she prayed for Jist one to be Jeft; but the little lamb died on her bosomn, and she was left childless, Childluss! do you know what this word means, Indy—you who have known mother-loye—what it'was to Dave a littls head upon your bosomn, who have felt the touck of littlo hinnds, the swcetness of nbaly kissT 7 know, and there is nothing fo comfort us hut tho thought that we are the tmother of an angel in Heaven, But the measure of this woman's agony swns not yet full, Under accumulnted misfortunes, her haband beentne an Imbecile,his death specd: Iy tollowed, and she, the §<;od. true daughter, wife, and mothier, was loft penniless.” (o Tielped hier—he always helps when we are In tho firo and call to hiin] Bhe went to work with her own bleeding heart to bind up Lhe wounila of others. Battle between North uud Bouth was ragiug. In the Imsllilnl. on the battle-ficld, there lier work Iny, What cared sho for danger or deathy, for death had clafmed her all, - I think this work saved lier; she came out of it, this grand woman, to continue lier mission of good, Grace held her breath, snd thought of lier handsome husband, a lttle impatient and selfish at times, but still her husband. What if shic should Jose him | Bhe thought of her chil- dren—her lfe’s-blood—what if they should all e taken and she Ieft alone! Urace rose up in her excitement, sat down again, guve the dear, strong band n tighter clasp, aud the two women understood enclrother fully, » And then this woman tolil of the homes of wealth to which she ld been ealled, of the heartache, the unfaithfulncss, the misery of those wrhoso pathways scemed covercd with flowers. And Grace hns found out what the Iady llies, though I do not think these people cart s0 much what they cat, 80 it Is wholesome and well cooked, and has been flittlng in and ont the kitchen pn-pnrhuf the coming meal. Tho table (s spread, the )nea and hardness ol- most gone from her face, there's a aunny-look in the great eyes, and her husbund has como In and hus left & fiuntlc touch on her lafr, which means *God bless you, Grace.” 8o the smn- per was purtuken of fu thankfulness and glad- nuss. Now, auntle must. go, nnd Grace will cling to her us iong s possible, aud will go with ler to the ciars. 1t may be months before these work- ing women mcut.apinln; and as the younger turned to go the clder woman put her aring around her and bugged her close, and safd, “My child, I have not cnjoyed myself s0 much for u long time; cverything was so niee, Keep on just us you aro ulnig. Grave, 1 love you, I fecl towards you In this way: 1t 1 werg'sick 1would like to have you with me.” And Grace returned the carcrses with all her heart, but sald humbly, *‘Indeed, auntle, it {s you that has done wic all the guod. Iam stronger far Lo<lay.” Bo they parted, and Grace wondered all the way home how 80 many grandly good qcnplc should love her. Ab, Grace liked to be loved, and tolove too. 1lome again, she washed the dishes, put the children to bed, finfshed ler ntehiyg and darning, without fecling a bit [,erl. for her soul wus tested, you Know. And has this afternoon rested you any, my lndy ¢ You know we rest by contrasts, some- timics. Whetler you arc oug of the manytoll- Ing early aud lato with one ineflicicnt servant, or doing all your work alone, os Grace \loce,f hope yon may gather a crumb of comfort, and, If =o, this little story will not have been written n yaln, Yes, it I8 a truo ptory, and there s a Graco Darling, though 8’ou nilght not recognize her photograph In'thfs. Perbaps she s your near helghbor, who knowsi And there {sa llving, breathing Aunt Lizzle too, thank God, though Mabel over the way, she with the long golden curls, says I have written impossibilitics. *\Two women do not meet u few tines and love us thess women did; men and women somctines do; and Aunt Lizzie don’t exist, that wus tao mutch trogedy in one lfe? But she knows there i o Grace Durling, for sho Lua watched her out of her chanber window st work, and she is’t plain elther, never haa ber hair rumpted, and weurs such pretty calico dresses, luen collars, and white aprous, and Inever see her children out on the sfdewalk whooping Like wild Indlaus. _Oh! most ehildren are horrid, but her boys ure learning thelr lessons, or playing with- out making any nolse in the house where they nufim to be; and 08 for Dalsy, well, I gucss Dulsy’s u littlo angel. No, my dear, that {s not Grace Darling; ehe has never had any chifldren but the one great boy of 15, taller than his mother, 1o 15 a gnod lm{. never gave her much trouble; she had only the onc to prune, you sce. But 1 wish you could see Graco's_chil ren; such a ‘nll y TUSY crew. Grace's cldest Is only 0 yeurs old, but ho 18 more already to his mother than tho lmy of 15istohls. I am afrald that lady’s collars have never been rumpled muel, or the halr roufihcd hyafinofl hof‘ b hng, such as Graco delighta i, Her children will alwoys think her £he prettiest, sweetest mother in the world, even when her halris gruy, And she witl al- ways have thelr confidence, mind that. nd I want tg tell you how this neighbor of yours keeps hofise, It 18 80 nice, aud some of ibo rest of us inight do the same way had we the crisp fives null tens that her husband gives her every morning, and never asks any aecount of either, for they have been thrifty and sav- fng at firat, and manoged together, und she never has to think whether the ends wlil mect at the eud of cach month as soms peoplo have to do. Jier husband never scolds or louks cross—at lenst to her, She had n quick temper when he married her, but his goodness curcil that, and she's a good, woll-dincipiined womanj I wish there were more like her.” This ludy Is unc of the nlee houscheepers who will tell’ you that housckeoping Is o cary, and It §s no trouble to ke?‘guurwl fixed up at your work. She can find time to put afinished artlst~ touch on all sk does. Let e tell you how she manages without the worry of keeping servanta, She lires her dresses made, even tho pretty poluts sho wears, and there sre no little ones, s0 she does not hive to sit up nights— The stitches wearily netting 1n the eudless need of repalr. er washing and {roning are put out, whils twico s week 0 woman comes to sweep, dust, clean puints, cte., and & man to black the stoves and put auythliig in ropair which s needed. Her buking fs hired, and sometiuies meals sent in by an cxperlenced cook. Bho has plenty of motiey, and cmploys only the best servints to do this work. “How poctical” and nice,” you say. Well, my dear, as for the poetry of the thing, Grace Darling, ot tho whirr of tho householid wheel, had more poctry In her lttle fln}fi.\r thun this ludy had in her wholo hody, 2 Mabel continues, *1 don’t think I would ke ler st woys; I would rather ho Grmee, yet never could be Aunt Lizzfe.”” No, my dear, you could never bo o Graco Durling. Wliy, half lier work would kill you, for you have nob the stumning, the pluck, the bralna. Dow't pout i'un can't Lielp it, for, while Urace was dresae icalthfully aud trained judlciously in the bloom of her youth, you have corseted “out your full develobment und been flattered into “thinking thut baklug a cake and sweeping the parlors was housekeeping. In spito of ‘your beauty, dear, you could never Lo Qraco In the hrlgmcn‘. benso of the word, and, us for tho durkest, you will never need to bo, for 1 have Watched the fall, steulght 'young fellow wwith brown halr und blue eyes, and I know who gavo you the dlumond ring aud what it means, ton, “He conldn’t well ufford it, but then Ma- bel must have o dlumond, and a nice one, and— oh well—he can save that in a great mauy little wn{u, and it will be ulw-i 80, he will munsge rlght, und you will always have ut least the ane rotty fresh silk dress and fine Juco Just us you 1ave Tow, and d’m" own way, If you do nof go too far, Mabel dear, You curt board if you liko, though he would prefer to have a lome of his own, and hos a snug littlo sum lald up fn bank for tiat purpoac, You can always keop a gisl, who can do your work, for it things arc a little slov- enly ut'times ho will not ncold. But should mis- forfuno come, why he would rathor take s plece of dry bread for dinner than bave you wash, or acrub), or docoarse, dirty work. 1lc's a strong- nerved, rellaut Tellow, gu‘Y but with no vices, 1 thought at ong thne, nof ioug agzo, that ho and the wuinan who Is making her muark with soft bright cycs and sweet mouth—if eho Is Auonpi; 1 minded—would have beon somcthing to eacl other, but tho girl suys she will nuver marr nover! Hut she will, 8ho will wed old 8novzle- fritz, and have her carriage, and hor diamonda and her gouty husband; und Hal_has caught o butterlly, Siich agood fellow! T wish there were more in the world, only they could marry their tirst loves and bave no'tragedy or might- have-beens. 1 would llke to tell you the story of Als first Tove, *twas such a sweet story, and Wwhen he told me ono year afo to-night Low the girl with the dewy dark eyes reminded me of ler—tho girl who will never arry o man with only a sulary— I roso up and sald, * You must give up this fau- cy, Hal, you ure getting to be an old bachelor; itls timc'you shotld winrry. Perliaps 1 have telped make this match, and T hope Mabel will iive up so much theatre, bulls, and parties when shu marrics, that she will not drug im wround 88" sho doua now, that ahe will luve home-even- fugs, & triflo’ of eewing, wsnd a book read aloud to her; that sho will uot leuyo baby to tho nurse always till heurt-sick hio stays ot home und eares for it hlmsolf, ubd #ho govs out with that uther man, the fricad, us o wuny duo hdha{uk:‘ Well, 1 anust luuu{ up my pletures; had I tmo they would besct ip more fitting framework, but I, too, am a work- ["fi-w""""' . 9@ hia lappened some manths ago, and now the gates of Juno are apencd, and the Tors are htooming and the hinds are flitting throtigh the trecs ot my door. 1 have reen Grace this” even- fng. Daisy was on hor lap, and the ellest boy #tanding with hisarm around hia “!1'!!’"""“]1["- " ns ho calls her, while the younzer, the 1it- e rl?'uu‘r, Wi, Iyln;i with his head upon her Kknee fooking up fito her eyen. Bhewas telling the children abont thelr” brother in Heaven. Hark! I hear her ainging: Thuls world 1n fiu)] of heanty Ar other worlds above, And If wo didour duty It might be full of Tove, i And Iknow that ol is well with Grace Dar- ng. II0W TO USE UP STALE BREAD. 7o tha Editor of The Tridune. Cuicago, June 1.—1 once lieard & man gny that “God sent the food, but that the Devil sont the covks.” Now, without going so far ns this, T must say that the averngo cooking i din- boliead, To see nice food spolled {n the cookling f8 certalnly exasperating, and I think there ought to he o law passed cnabling us to sue any ono for damnges who shall carclessly, or with nallee aforethought, injure our digestive appa- ratus. There should be a college In which girls could study cooking, and no ono should be allowed to get marrled, or to take boarders, or in any capacity practice cooking, without a di- ploma, Our stomachssurcly are worth looking after a8 much as the rest of our bodies. ‘What a commotion such a Jaw would create, to be surel Then would not vir- tue be rewarded in the ease of the very Tew good cuoks who bave studled the nrt, and would not Mrs. 8arab L. stand out a bright par- tienlar star In the culinary firmament,—"the best unprofessional cook In Chivago? “1 thank thee, Jew, for teaching inc that word 1" I was golug to lay clnim to somcthing like that myself, but when I sco how ungraceful it ap- pears coming from one’s owa pen, I concluded 0 walt and sce what other folka think of e, and abide by thelr decision. At any rate, not nculn;.; myselt “F so high, T ehall not have sv far to fall, {f fall { must.” And, Mrs. Sarah L., people will poke fun; you caunot help ft. 1 rejulee to see how far aud wide-sprend this interest in housckeeplug I8 becoining, Mr, Ed- ftor, and surely improvement must como of It. All the women want is a chance, and I am sure thelr letters are quite spley, and if thelr cook- ing {8 as good as their Jetters thero Is hope for mankind yet. 1lere are {ive ways of using up the stale bread to advantage: Shinve off the pirts of the crust which have been browned in the bakiug: sonk for un honr in cold water; then equeezc all the water out of it, and wdd it to your flour in your bread-mixing, It will make over nleely Into bread, keeping it molst and palatuble a dr:‘y or twa longer than when the flour alone s ueed. One-half souked bread to one-half flour I8 n good proportion; or, soak In cold water; then squecze dry, and lay in u shallow pan about 3 inches deop; pour” over {hia o custard made In_the followi 'l\‘nf‘, and bake titl welt browned in o hot oven: Threo epys beaten up with a smali teacup of sggar and a quurt of m and a very little salt; maolke a sauce of 1 tabléspoonful of butter, 10f flour, and 2 of supar, stirred togethier, over which pourapint of bolllngz water ; set onatove where it will simmer, without burning; add flavoring extract of any kind, and & very little nutmes. Alluluurnn%o suex'rmum i i pives itavery nieo favor. Tn ishing up, cat it In squares, and remove to dishes top side up seith care. 'The fashion somg have of tumbling it out higyledy nly[‘ellh/; mukes any pudding look uninviting; and always bave the sauce pretty bot,—lukewarm ssuce 13 nauscous. : Another excellent “bread vuddlngfi much rellshed by chitdren, cold or hot, which we eall on account of its cheupness, Hard Times Pud- ding,” isthis: Soak your bread in ns Iiitle cold water o8 will soak it thoroughly; then beat ft up, water and all, and add flour enough to wmuke it the consistency of apple sauce; add sucar, cinnamon, a Httfe uutmeg, allapice, which must predominate, and some well-washed currunts; alro u little butter melted and stirred v, If 1 Is baker's bread, scald a little saleratus, and stir in theroughly, but, if it is house- made bread, sdd ® teaspoonful of baking powder to your flour, ut the rate of two teu- l!mnnfilln 10 o quuart of pudding, Bake In shallow pous; cut in squares when serving; turn over, and put on each a small plcce of bui- ter, and dust plentifully with powdered sugar. This requires a littic care in making, but is nniversally lked and very wholesome and cco- uomical, a8 10 eggs or cream ure required, You can mali¢ o nice brenkfast dish of your stale slfces aa follows : Make n batter of 1pint. milk, £ cggs, 2 tenspoonfuls of flour, and o lit- tle salt; sunk the bread fora few minutes n this butter, and fry fu hot lard on both aldes, till nicely browned. Ent with sirup snd but- ter, same’ 88 pancikes. Or . make tho stale bread inte Lread-fritters ns follows: Soal the bread over night in eold water ; add flour enough to mulke a thick batter; three or four beaten cfigl i alittlosalt s a 1itt)o scaldod saleratue, {f It ta baker's bread, or baking-pow- der it it I8 home-made bread (ns baker's bread s nlways more or lees sour), and bake on s hot griddle, in good, sweet Ianl. Cook thetn thur- Gughly, till'a deep brown. Theré are other ways for uslug up tho stale breud, but theae must sut- flce for the present. Here Is my way for maring strawberry short- cako : Firsi prepare the berrivs b Elclung; after they Luve been well wastied,—the best wiy to wash “them fs to hold tho boxes under thie fuucet and lct a gentlo stream of water run over themn {uto an carthen howl; now take the nud throagh them,—then draln, and plck them Into on carthen bowl; now take the potato-mushicr and brulse them and cover with a thick layer of white sugur; now set them oaldoa tlll the cake Is made. Take a quart of sifted flour; balf & cup of sweet butter; oue egw, well beaten; threo teaspounfals of Baking-pawder, and mlfk enough to make a rather nHfi dough; Kknead well, and roil with the rolling-pin til ubout ene inch thick; buke till a unice brown, and when done, remove it to tho table; turn it out of the pan; with a light, sharp knlfe, cut it down lengthwise and crossways; now run the kulfe through it, and lay it open for a few mo- ments, {\m 1ot the steam escapo (the steam rulns the color of the berries); then set the Dbottom crust - on the plattery cover thickly with the berries, nn inchand a half deep; lay tho top crust on the fruit; dust thickly with powdered sugar, and il sny herry Juce 1 left tn the bowl, pour it round ths cake, not over it, and you will have a dellefous short- cuke, & real 4 atrawborry short-cake,” amd not a “shortherry atraw cake,® which most of them are, I'had this recipe years ago from a Captain of an ocval steamer, Who nl\n?'a lamanted the torrible knpositions ho inct with, which were dignificd_ by the title of **strawberry short- eake.” I havo used it, and have gained a great renown in o swull woy among wy drcle of friends. And now I want to say one word about cook- ing beefsteak,~the ono thing of all vthers that requires and shows good couklug (when I gots {t).¥ I know the majority of people prefer brofled steak. Now, I buve never yei esten a Urofled steukc that | thought would compare with a properly fricd one; but, alas] how sol- dom wu meet with a properly cooked becfstenk, nnd yet it ls the simplest thing. ‘Take either porterhouse, tenderlotn, or sirloin steak, not inore than one fnch thick; remove the bune; cut ltinto pleces about tho alze of the patm af your hand; have your pan (trfn:lly clean ; put it over tho fire with a very 1(tths lued, or What ks better, the fat of the steak—on: no oo count' uso butter, us \ that in helug overheated undergoes ' chemieal ehange, which 18 dlaastrous in its effects upon the stomach; so says Liobeg, Have yonr pan quite liot, but not suoking,—tf the pan smoloes, the grease {8 buruing, which will gpoll tho tlayor of our steak ; reniove the pan, and walt a Mitle; have it Just hot enough to **sles,” but notto swoke; now put in your steak, und turn just as soon as it shows brown—ouce only! never turn a steak more than once, and do most of the cooking on the second slde, leaving It In a very fow minutces for thoss who ko It rure, longer for those who like it botter doue; but don't ul- luw it to stay in the pau ono svcond after it is dono unaugli; remove it to the platter, spread a littlo uice butter on it, and pepper and salt it. Pour the gravy Ih the pan fnto llm dish, but not over the tycat. The rulea to bo observed fn cooklug are these: Buytho best steak ({t s the chespest g thero s no wusto) nawr pound it {mluullm; brufscs theflbres nid lota the julco of he meat escape, and steak without julco is like & woman without a soul,—no account. Have the pun Just hot onough tocleatrize the outside, which will prevent the julee from escaping? don’t allow it to lay ln'the hot pan alter it i3 done,—tlds renders it tough; and lhmlly 4o nob couk’ It till the lust thing,—~standing spolls it ‘Tobe good it inust be eateil na svou as cooked; if 1t must stund a little while, put it {n a warm place. Lot the young housekeeper obey thess rules, and sho will probably have fLeald of Ler, s it wus once sald of tho writer by an Impetu- ous young gentleman after o long journey, “pal you beat all ereation cooking utwk' froin tho Atlantic to the Pucilic” Tueo. C. C, et IIOW 1T I8 DONE. 7o the Ediivr of Ths Triduns, Cmcaao,June 1.—Jeveral of your correspond- cuta ask for my recdpes for uslng “eold-alr attritlon,” or “cold-ground whole-wheat four, aud I scud the fullowing, and will sdd that I have nover falled in obtalulog the dealred resnlts with these recipea: I have lately been using the new fmproved sttrition flour, men- toned n week ago by your correspondent 4 W. 8. 8, and I wish to add my testimony to the exeotlenca of the improvement. The recdpes I give work even better with the new flour than with the old. The new flour (8 not any better aa a foold, I shoukl judge, than the former flour; but It works easicr,—that {s, more in theusual manner people nre accustomed to work white flour. For lustance, 1 have just made & bateh of bread from it, and worked it by kneading just as I would whiteflour, The former, or ald attrition flour, dld not rise much, It any, in the oven, but this new flour does. T use a long, siim pan for Uread,—it [s about 10 inches long und 3¢ Inches wide at the bottom, and 11 fnches Jong and 43 fuches wide at the top, and 3¢ inches deep, and 1 think in this shave the bread bakes more evenly than i lurger orroundermaas. 11111 the pans about, half full of the kneaded dnul(ll, and et it Haes 11 the pana are full, and with this fm- proved flour tho loaves riss an Inch or moro nhove the pans {n the oven, making a large, light, and handsome loaf. My Ioaves, therefore, i this present haking, are mach Jargce and lighter than from the former flour baked in the saine pans, while the bread has the same pure and wholesomo wheat flavor, 1find also that tha new flour Haes quicker batls In lhuxpon};c and fn the pans than white flour docs, and I knead the dough us soft—that [5, a8 tnolst—ns I ean handle it: the inore knead- ing it gets the finer the potous strueture of the Dresd s, 1 never use any sugar, molasse, or lard fn iy bread, but make it plain with cither water or milk, and aiwnys usc &s sweet and fresh yeast na possible, und do not try to force my bread along by using go much yeast as to finpurt a yeasty taste to the bread. want the 'mru. sweet, healthful wheat flour, I keep my bread in o covercd stone jur, und i (s aweet, muist, and fresh-taating when a week old. Whole Wheat Flour Doughnita: One heaping teacupful of sugar: three tablespoonfuls of mielted shortening (onc-half butter and one-half Iard); two cegs; one quart of cold-ground wholi-wheat fluur; a litlle nutmeyg; one cup sweet mlik with a small teaspuonful of soda dissolved In ft; two spuonfuls of cream tartar mixed and sifted with the flour. Fry fn part suet and part lard, Minute Sponge Cake: Three eggs; one and one-half cupa sugar; one Lalf cup eold wat with ouc-half tnurmmlul =oda dissolved in it} two acant cups sifted cold-ground whole-w! flour, with ene teaspoonful of creatn of tartar, slfted thorouzhly nto it. Put together us fol- lows: Beat the yolks of the eggs well, then wld the sugar, and beat to s ercutn, then add the water with the soda dissolved in It. Iave the whites of the cizgy beaten to o still froth, and add it alternately with the flour, nlittle of cuch at atime, to the beaten ‘yulkn, sugar, and water, stirring all the time tilf all s simoothly mixed. Flavor to suit and bake In_guod oven. 1 have used so much space that I will omit to send now the vxeellent recipes I have for steamed pudding, fruit pudding, ginger-snaps, cte, for some of which I have also used the wld‘gmum] whole-wheat flour, both plain and in a sclf-ratring form us put IIY by the Cold-Alr Attritfon Mills of this city, who also innke the flour. 1 will send these reelpes aucther thine, {f wanted. 1 scc some mention In your columns of Horsford’s bread-preparation, 1 am famillar with i, and huve used It In place of soda aud cream of turtar for specinl urlpusu, but for bread-making I do ot ltke It. think your correspondent, * W. 8. 8.," is right in"What ho says of tho foollshness of cople secking food Tn chemieal preparations Hmluud of natural products. The Creatar of the Unlverso has bountifully supplied Iila ereatures with the neeessury fooll to bulid uj thelr bodies in strength, and maintain them in health, cvery clement they require belng found in nearly every kind of “natural vewetable and animil food. Mus. L. C. J. MRS, DR, "HALE'S LETTER. 7o tha Editor of The Tridune. Cuicaco, June 1.—I beg to offer assurances of ny profoundest sympathy to the lady whose materials for cake-tnnking changed places by some curicus legerdemaiu of the printer's art. I console mysclf under similar inflictiona by remembering that the gentle reader i3 a fenlent critfe; that If I scem to talk of “ehirred fur skirts,” he will assume that not T, but fashion, las gono erazy; that hie will generousty believe that I spcll chronic with an I os other people do. Butonemuaysintuofar. Thepubliewlllnot beareverything. Ithasaprejudice ugniust cannl- balism, and, I really think, on gowd grounds, both na regards morals and csthetics, There- fore 1 hasten to explaln that, whatever may be my private oplofon of “coquettes,” I never did proposc to * brown them nleely on a griddle.,” By fnterposing a rolling French r {n the middle of the first syllabls you will perceive that my Intention wos not only mnocent but laudable. It waa to utllize the debris of the meul. We have been told so often and so long that 2 Freaeh family would live on what an Amerl- can family throws uway, that most of us have come to belleve it Only keep saying o thing, and ot lust mobody will contra- diet you. And 80 our consclentlous Ameriean housckeepers have taken the alarm. With our vast and unutilized public domuln, with 250l teeming with fruftfuloess,with high wages and chicap beet and bread, we are cager to lmi- tate the necessary nigeardliness of Buropenus. ‘The French prasant thinks himself fortunate 11 bie hes ronst_mutton or beef for his Sunda dinner. The Frenel bourgeois taxea his ingenul- y to provide an o Ecw.hu: menu ot a coat with- fn his means. When it takes a 5-frune plece to buy beef enough for = soup, he cconomlzes with the bones fromn yesterday’s roast, and sup- plies the luck of flavor with” lierbs aud vegeta- Llcu. It is onerous nccessity which ~ has taught llin to create a good dish out next to nothing. No such necessity Hes upon the Americsn people. When 10 conts will buy a pound of very fair becfsteak, the American hJ;arcr can flayor his sonp with beef instead of raley. ‘Flho American ruce can sfford to be & well-nourished, vigorous race. It has no need of the petty makcshifts by which less fortunate natlons eeck to disguise thelr paverty, What is pralseworthy prudouce in them would b penu- riousness in us. Another fallacy which has for years gone un- chnlionged s, that *“‘soup costa absolutely nothing, becauso it is made out of what would otherwise b thrown away.” 1 think this an altogether unfounded reftec- tion umpon the prudence of Amcrlean housckeepers. The pot-auefeu Is an admirable deyice. It tekes runk with the tea-kettle as a kitchien falry, It presonts {n a palatablo form varlous odds ond ends which otherwlse would not be av well redlshed, or would be given to tho dog o eab or tho poor fanilly next door, neither of which wuys of disposal would be wastofuluess, Btinginess s not a grace. But it must bo an extraordinary famdly which could support o pot-au-feu from the Uchris of tho family table. 1 should suspert poor cooking in the firat fnstance, or very bad culeulation lu the purchaso of naterfal,” I think that two or three thues » week we must go to the butcher for supplics for the pot-au-fou. 1 am also satlstied that the thesis—thut o soup can be made out of nothlng or next to nothing —cannot be maintalned, It I8, to be sure, ® very charming bit of fiction. 1 confess that the leal pleture of th French cook in fmmaculate white cup und apron, getting up e xquleite din- ners out of nothing—soups from o beef bone ond 8 handful of vegetables, mnd deliclous en- troes from left-overjblts—(fusclnnted my inexpe- rlenced funey, Of courae 1 tried to hnftate hilin, I didw't succeed, 1 mever saw uni’bmly who did swceed. The roust woull get eaten up. The vegetables cost more than. & good plees of meat. Tho ma- terlals for the nlee-made dishe breskfast, or soicbody made away wl 1d meat and my pretty plans at onu fell V00| Letussce now what the soup costs whon materinls are bouglit, For o famlly of two let us any, for Beet . Bunch of soup-herbs, Vegetabl Total.... . ++.2b centa The fire must be kept four or flve hours, and the attentlon of the couk oceupled more or less all tho thue, ‘The above would moke about tlrce pints of good soup. Tho twe would en- tlrely dlapose of it and fulfil} that absurd dirve- tion” to rlse from the tuble hungry, For T hold that soup by ftself docs not satisfy hunger, It stimulates the appetite, incltes tho stgmach to action, and begets o rrnvlnt: for the sulid Toox which should fotlow, sid which s all the more caslly digestod for tho stimulus of the soup. As a flrat couree, soup is_exccllent; as an eotire mml{ it {4 & deluslon. Fo return, The soup has cuat 23 cents, which would havo bought a diuner of porter-hotise steak und potutoes und at least ono other vegetuble, This' could have been cvoked fn oug hour, the expense of fuel, and the Inereased heat §n the louee, and the thine of the cuok, belng saved, Not conteot with hu:lr success n making the soup out of mnext tu nothlng, soms of our friends represont the exhuasted auscular ibro undor vurious fllusive disgulses. Auvother 13 shocked ut tholdes of giving tho lougflnut to thodogs. 8o wm 1, butvn behalf of thodogs. I thiuk Towsur, aud Kitty also, Aeserve something bettur at our bunds. U Mo who made usdld not thivk ft heneath Him to make them also, it {8 very shabhy in ue to re. fuse to share with them that abundance of the earth which we, in our arrogance, clalm 24 all our own, a8 If no uther llving creature had a plnce fn 11is thanght But Indeed the well-fed dog ar eat will refuree foup-meat., Thfiy don't reason ahout it evi- dently. They don't realizo that the rystes needs cellulose, that a little tough, indigesti- ble snbstance frritates the stomach in = salutary manner. They eat to [lve, os human beings “without theories do, and they find no material for Jife In the soup-meat, Of course there arc differcnces In soup-meat. A very small soup muy be made from a very larze plece of meat, and the meat will retaln’a portfon of {ts nutritive substances. But the object of conk- ing meat In soup Is to extract its valuahle cle- ments. In proportion as this Is done the real- duum s made worthless, It Is obvions that these nutritive cletnents cannot be in two places at once, and I think it quite cortain that, when neat haa heen botled four or five hours in water, nearly all that gives it any value as & foo has prased Into that water, ‘and the tastcless fibre which rematns has no nore nutritlve value than corn-huaks, probably not ao much, and Is, morcover, ineapablo of digestion, the sarco- Temina and cellufar tissue buving heen hardened hy the long bolling beyond the potnt of solution in the gastric flufd. "That the vigorous stomach manages to disposo of It is no argument in fts favar. " The healthy stumach s wonderfully tolerant. 1t has enter- tained a handful of nalls and made no sign. But, once disordered, it willnot be trifled with, T if you ure wise, you wlll give it no supcriiuos wairk todo. }Julllmf meat Is the worst posaible way of enok- Ing i, If 1t Is done, the method should be such a8 to fecure as much of the nutritive elements aa 18 compatible with the process. It wmay he plunged at once into holling water and allowed to holl briskly for five iniu- utes, This congrulates the albumen on the sur- face, henuetieally seals the cells, and thus the Julces are retained. The goodcouk understands this, and she puts her steakn over a Aot fire and lier ronst into o hot oven, and after alittle ul- lowa the hieat to fall, This is the rule. In making broth, on the contrary, the water should be cold st rst and come gradually tothe bolling point. Chlcken meat makes the strongest broth, mut- ton commes next, and beef last: yet 82 per cent of the sulta of Liee! pass into the broth. Balting meat robs it of at least vne-third of its nutritive value, which the brine gains. “The fleah of all young unimals I coinparative- difficult. of digcstion from the larga propor- tlon of gelatine which it coutalns. The flesh of wild fowl and game s more easily digested than the dormenticated species. According to Dr. Beaumont, the relotive di- Funliblllt)‘ of the different meats (8 as follows, heginning with those mosat easily digested: Trive, venison, lver, turkey and lamb, beef and mutton, veal, pork. Home of these changed places with different modes of cooking, Something, too, must be altowed for altered conditions” of the system. And then St. Martin's digestion must have been murvelously good. The record of his feats Is cnough to malke a d)'upcguc shudder. At 8 a.1n. o brenkfast of three hard-bofled egys, pancakes, and coffee. At 11 a.m. two romated eges und three rlpe spples. AL 2 p. m. rousted pig and vegetables. = At half-past 4 nothing rumalus fu the stomach but u little gastric-julce. Iaving spoken so frequently of dyspeptles, It may be proper Lo ssy & word or two In regard to a common error. In popular lavguage cvur{!mdy whose foul digests {l] bas dyspepsia. But Indigestion s only i s{mpwm of & tnorbid condition. It may siinify In one Inflammation of the stomach} in another, want of tone lu the nervous system, os actual lesfon. of the nerve- centres; fn another It may mean simply furc tional, sympathetic disturbance. Al tiicse re- quire different treatment. Hence thers can be o speclfic, snd whoever hopes for it will be lable to disuppointment. l'lut whatever may be the cause, it Is susceptible of alleviation by suitable dict, atnoug other means. Asir M, lavng, M. D, e TRISIE STEW. To the Fditor af The Tribune. MARQUETTE, Mich., May 20.—I have reccived much valuable {nformation from your House- keeplng Department, and should like to ask a few questions and give a recipe. 1 Ilke * Mrs. Surah L.'s " recipes, but do not agree with her in cooking mutton. I broil it as 1 do beefsteak, garnish with parsley and hutter. You will find it much awecter if you can eat it rare, and after alittle will not cat it any other way, Every anc used to think muttan-chop was not good unless well done, but after trial they get over this uotion. Mutton cooked In any other way must be well done. «Here i my recipe for Irish stew: Take lean mutton, potatoes, and onfons; firat ru‘. in o deep Kettle & layer of Imlnt.ucn cut In slices, then a layer of onlous, hen mutton, and be sure all the'fat Is cut ofly then another Inyer af potatoes, onfons, and mutton, and flnlsh h{ Yutmom‘ on top. Be- tireen each layer sprinkle salt, pepper, and a little flour. Then put In enouzh water to cook without burning: eouk four lours, and do 1ot stir it up, but Iet [t cook slowly on the topof the stove,~with u hot firc and it won't burn, 1 wunt to know Af % Critle? I3 sarcastie at the breakfnst-table! I would Hke recdpes for pic and pudding. Yours, respeetfully, Mus. FRANE G, UNDER THE APPLE-BLOSSOMS, Tnder the appla-blossoms, One year ago Lo-day, 1 promined to Jove and cherlah, Yot vowod Lo love and obey, And we wonld be true forever, — Forover und o day. Tnder the appla-hlossoms, 1 #tand to-day alons, And the eoft, pink, fragrant petals Qver your gravears blown,— Over thie new:wade maund of carth,— Over the cold, whits stonc. Under the applo-blorsoms, iy wnndvrmhrcc o fanned, Lonely, and and silent, 'a-dny 1 tako my t you—whore have Tu'what far Sumnier Under the apple-blossoms, 1 know your fuleduce | Under the applo-bioswniie, Are hidden your dear eyva; But whero are yoa, ~the apirit To whom tny sad heart crics? Under tho applo-blorsom. Come to mo once agatn| Only the soft, pink petals Fallin a fragrans min: anly tho branches sizhing “Tell me 1 call {n vain. Uader the apple-blossoms, Undor the heavend blne, Same day of springlike beuty, Dear, 1 sl conie to you, And oul that blessed motning 1shall bo proven true, Mant A, Horr. ———— An Adventurous Career. New York Bun, Prof. ITenry A. Ward, of Lochester, N, Y., who luw béen selected by the * unknown friend ¥ of the University of Virgiuta to procurs for 1t the best possible collection of naturl his- tory spechinens, hus had w yery adventurous carcer. Many yvars ao ho was_employed by o wealthy Frenelimun as tutor to his sow, and “on Jeuving thut service he found hlmself the owner of just $100. With this sum s determined to seo everything that Europe posacased of interest to a natarallst, e remuined abrowl seven years, learned the Fronch and Genuan languages, ui supported as well as Instructed hinself by colleeting and setling apeclinens to dndividuals and _muscumns. Extending his wanderings into Central Afries, he wad reduced by sickness to his lust dollar, but euccceded by teaching English to some French oflivers in acquiring an amount of money to relieve hils fnmudiste ne- cessitivs, Mo resumed collecting, and Inall subsequent extromitics he held on to certuin luts, which, being Increased !hmn{;h exchanges with other collectors and uew gutherings in the Waest Indles, formed the basis of the remarkably eabinet for which the Univeraity of Rochicster pald hin 840,000, 1Mo §s now iu casy clrcun- stunives, and, slthough engaged in theinost con- gental work, hns agreed o make another jour- m?’ around the world to gecure materials for a calinet that shall excel anything of fta kind In tho United Btat e ———— A Queor Club In Nevada, ‘Auatin (Neo,) Recall Matters have been very quict in the Bazerac Lying Club of late, but o iwember confldentially informns us that when boys get pula off they will mako * Rome bowl" “To-day & pay-day, and, consequuntly, an exciting scssion of the Club may be expicted this evoning, They ex- pect to fiitinte w new nember, who is preparcd o take his solemn ocath that he saw a man fall 4,000 feot down an fucline withaut touching fis sldes, tup, or bottom; and that when bis fellow workinen reached him he was Hghting hls plpe with his candle, which ho had held in Tils hand, and which was not extinguished durlng the de- seent. The Investigating Committes reported favorubly on the mun's applivation for adimls- alon, because they thought that was something IKe u reasonublo e, 1y a rule of the Club no meinber b allowed to tell w o which might not have been true bad such un occurreucs tuken placs, FAMILIAR TALK. The "' Dial" and the * Harbinger.” Organs of the Transcendental and So- cialistic Movemonts, Haydon-anneee-Gossip About Bjyron, Chantrey, Sir Robert Pecly and Wordsworijt A Visit to Soane's Musoum——0oleridge, Bpurzheim, and tho Barcophagua, TIIE “DIAL? AND “JIARBINGER.! Fewreadersof the progent gencration have ever seen o copy of the Dia: ;s few even may never haye heard of the publication; yct in ita time 1t exerted a deep, If not wide, fflnence, and Its prosperity was watched with solicitude by many of tho most enlightencd minds in our country. ‘The magazine was catabllshed when the Trans- cendental movement In New England had ac- quired its greatest fmpetus, and was the special organ of the enthuslastic leaders of that mov ment, who wished through its columns to dis- scminnto thelr systein of philosophy amnong the peuple. It was published quarterly, the {nltlal number appearing in July, 1840. For the first two years its chief cditor was Margarct Fuller, with R. W, Emerson ss her principal associate. 1l-heulth compelled Miss Fuller to give overthe journal into the hands of Mr. Emerson at the cnd of two years, yet she still continued to write for ft,—exciting the grateful wonder of him whom she thus assisted, * st the facllity with which she assumned the preparation of laborious artl- cles, that might have daunted the most prac- ticed scribe,”™ . It was intended that Mirs Fuller should re- celve, as compensation for Ler services as edltor, £200 per annum;; hut the suwm uctually reallzed dird not reach that amount. Yet this in no way lessencd her interest in the perlodieal, or hier efforts to promote its welfare, ' She \\’Mt‘lgkl‘l)' solicited 1o undertake the charee of this work, enys Mr. Emerson, * which, when [t began, con- centrated a good deal of hope and affectton, 1t had its orlgin in a club of speculative students, who found the air in America getting a lMttle close and stagnant. . . . The f«)urrml wag commeneed with much hope, and 1iberal prowm- {8es of many co-operators. But the workaten of sufflclent calture for a poetfcal aud philosoph- ical maznziue were too few; and, ns the pages were filled by unpaid contributors,—each of whom had, “according to the usage and uceessity of this country, some 1‘):%11.;; employment,—~the journal diid not get hisbhest work, but his sccond best. Its seattered writers had not digested thelr theories into a distinct dogma, stlil less Into a practical measure which the public could grasp; and the maguzine was su eclectic and miscellancous that each of its readers aud wrlters valued only a small por- tion of it. . . . But the Dial betrayed, through all its juvenility, timidity, snd con- ventional rubbisty, some sparks of the true love and hope, and of the plety to spiritunl law, which had moved Its fricnds aud founders, nod It was recefved by its early subscribers with alinost a religlous welcome.” These ore the worda of a ¢o0l eritic, whose serenc judgment 18 never stirred or biased by enthuslosin, Mr. Frothingham, who has described the mission of the Dial, in * Transcendentalistn in New Encland,” writes with more fervor of an euterprise which won his warmest sympathies, It 5 better to quote his statements literally than to attempt an abstract which must clther servilely imitate, or do them injustice, “The contributors,” writes Mr. Frothinghaw, “were the bright nien and women who gave volee In literary form to the various utterances of the Transeendental genlus, Mr, Emereon's bra- yest lecgures and noblest poems were first print- ed there. Murgarct Fuller, besides numerous pleces of miscellancous criticlstn, contributed the artlele on Gocethe, alone enouzh to estab- Hish her fame as a discerner of spirits, aud the paper on * The Great Luwsuit: Man versus fen—Woman versus Women,'! which was afterwards cxpanded into the book, * Woman in the XIXth Century.! Bronsun Alvott sent n chapters the *Orphic Sayings,! which were an amuzement to the uninitisted and an nmuse- ment to the profane. Jounger Lrother of the Charles Emicrson,~ asayist,—whose preua- ure death was bewailed by tho adwirers of fn- tellect and the Tovers of pure charaeter, proved, by his ¢ Nutes froi the Journal of u Scholar,’ that the genius was uot _contlued to o single member of his fumily. “George Ripley, James Frocman Clurke, Theodore Purker, Willtum 1. Channing, Henry Thoreau, Eliot Cabut, Johin 8. Dwight (the niusleal eritie), C. P. Cranch (the artist-poet), Willfam E. Chauning, were Hbera] of contributions, all in characteristic woys; and unnamed men and women did their purt to il the numbers of Lhis most remarkable maga- zine. The freshest thoughts on all subjects were brought tothe editur's table; sockal'ten- dencies were notieeds books were reviewed; the newest ‘;lul.urc, the last concert, wus passed upon, nbroad us well csat home; tho philo- suphival discussions wero able and discrimioot- ing: the theologleal papers were learned, bru aud fresh. The four volumes ara exceeding sich n poetry, and poctey such i seldom finds a place In poputar magazines, The first year’s I#sue contained G5 pleces; the sccond, 355 the third, 50; the fourth, 3 Among_these were Emerson’s earlieat Inepfrations. The * Prob- lem,’ ¢ Woud-Notes,’ 'he Sphiux,' ‘Bandl,’ *Ode to Heauty," *Fo Rhea,' tirst appeared o the Diol. Harps that had long been silent, un- able to make themselves beard amid the dln of the later generation, wmade their music here, For Trunscendentullsm was essentially poet aud put its thouphts naturally into song. The poems In the Dialy even leaviig out the famous ones that have been printed sinee with their au- thors' names, would muke an intercativg and attactive volume. . . . “A remarkable feature of the Dial were the chapters of *Ethintcal Serptures,” seven in all, containing texts from the Vecshiu Surm, the laws of Menu, Confucius, the Dsatir, the Chi- nese *Four Books,' Hermes Trismeglstus, the Chaldean Oracles. Thirty-five yeurs ugo, these &«nme, now 50 & saible, and in portions famlllar, were known to the few, sl were es- teemed hy none hut schiolars whose enthushsm for anclent }Mterature got the better of thelr re- ligious faith, To read such things theu, showed un ealightened snd courageous mind; to print theny - iu a mogezine under the ssered title of e [mlrmz,‘ argued a most extraordiusry brewdth of view, ~In offering these clhapters to jta rewlers, without apology, and ot thelr merits, Transcendentalism exhibited it power to overpass the Hmits of ull special religlons, and do perfeet Justice to utl expresstons of the || relizious rentiment.” ‘T'o this very ful) account, it is only neccssal to add that the Jitl was_discontinued o April, 184, after o career of Just four years. A twelvemuonth after she Jial Lind ceased to exlst, a weekly {nllm'.\l entitled the MHarbinger wus eatubllslied by the Fraterulty at Brook Farm, and contlnued during a term of four years, It waa ‘vuhll!hull in the ‘luterests of aocfal reform, and to farther, as Mr. Ripley declared in the Introductory notice, * the radleal moyenent for the henetit of the musses, which is the crowulng glory of the plicteenth century, . . . ‘To that movement, conseerated by relllous prinei- ple, sustalied by un awfu) eeiise of justice, aml cheered by the brightest hopes of future good, all one powwers, talents, and attalnments are de- voted! Amain we borrow from Mr. Frothing- ham's late buok, which contatus a history of the uime and aehlevements of the paper: " UA pawerful cotupany of writérs contributed thetndabor to help furward the plan. . The jour- ufll was atlluent and Tarkllng. The literury eriticlsn was the work of able pens; the musival and urt criticlons was in the bands of the most competent judges in the country; the esthetl were not neglected; theverse wiis exeelient s but the soelal questions were of first consideration. These were never treated stightingly, aund the treatmont of them never deviated from the bluh standard proposed by the editors. The list of its contributors contulued the nawies of Stepheu Pesrl Androws, Albert Brisbune, W Il Clan- uing, W. E. Channiug, Walter Chunniug, Junes Feveman Clarke, Georgge i1, Catvert, J. J. Cooke, A.J, 1L Duganne, C, 1% Crauch, Gearge W, Cur- tls, Charles A, Data, J. 8. Dwight, Horace Gree- ley, Parke Godwin, F. 1L Hedge, 0 W Higein- s M. B Lazarus, J. It Lowelt, Oshorn Mac- danfel, George Ripley, B. D. Robbius, L. W. Ryckutan, . G, Shaw, W. W. Btory, Henry Jumes, Jolin G, Whitticr, G. Wilkinson,—a most remarakable collectionof puwerful names, +The depurtments secis ot Lo bsve been s tematically arranged, but the writers sent whiat, Tud,—tho same writer sending articles on o varfety of toples. Mr, F. G, Bhaw published, n sucedssive nunbers, an sdmirablo translation of (ieorgre 8and’s * Consuclo,’ und wrots aralnst the Inlquitics of the principle of competition trade. C. A, Duna noticed books, reparted wovemonts, critlcised men aud meusures, trans- lated poetry from the Gerinan, and sent verses of a mystical sud seuthuental chayaeter, of his owu. V. 8. Dwight pald attentlo. to the mn- sical dopartinent, but also wrolw book-reviews d articles on the socll problem. W, 1L Channing poured out his Lurning soul in denunclation of sowclal wrong, amd pafnted in ulwm{ words tho prombe of the futui G. W. Curlls scut poctry and notes oo lturatuwre aud wusk tu Now York., T W, Higginson printed there his ¢ IT: Himanity. Mest. Brisbanc, Godwln "ac Ureeley “eonfined themselves te social probe lems, doing a large part of tho heavy work. Me, Ripley, the managing-cditor, supervised the wholo; wrote much humell on the dife fercot aspects of Assoclatfon; reported the - progreas of the cause st home and 3 answered the objections that were current in the popular prejudice; and gave to the paper :Irl)fr( :ammulng tone of his chocry, earncsy The last number of the Harbinger was lss Feb. 10, 1847 Notwithstand(ng the nohflll‘yn;} its alms and the talent of ita contrihutors, it falled to arouse the ?mpnthlm of the peopley -I)'llldvh(’ml the principl gu":)( fi!{wlnllsm liad mada ¢ impression; and its Wfo was as that of {ta predecessor, the Dial, Bk HAYDON-ANA. Haydon, the English historical painter, had an opportunity of seelng a good deal of fashe fonalite London soclety at those Intervals in his art-carcer when one of his pictures, or ono of his slashing articles in the newspapers, had cres ated a popular sensatlon; and his ¢ Correspond. ence and Table-Talk " abound in gossipy ne'es upon the celebritics he met. Bome of them have a splee of malice or of envy fn thelr compo- sition; but this, perhaps, makes them only the more relishable to weak humanity. Amonga number of the more interesting paseages which we extract, I3 this relating to Lord Byron; “Mrs. Opie told mef while Lreakfasting with hier at Norwich, that Byron's voice was tho most exnuielte of any mortal’s shc ever heard; that it was so sweet, whenever he spoke he startled licr *as if the Devll was speaking with intent to begulle her.' *He gave one the lea,’ sald she, ‘as il It was such & volce a8 had deeelved Eve.! The last thae ghe saw hlin wns at o rout.’ Sho was sltting on o couch with him, when Lady Caroline Lamb, who wus making herself very ridiculous at the time, came over and placed heraelf between them, As Mra, Ople did not care to be third in the conversation, she rosa and left them; and she never saw lim ofter,”? Haydon never speaks of o brother-nrtist without betraying the jealousy of another's suc- vess that embittered his soul., Of the sculptor Chantrey, who rose, by (int of industry and talent, from poverty aid obrenrity to a position of wealth_and socinl rank, he never eays o gen- erous word, On the contrary, ktich ancedot us the fullowlngz are retalled with evident zests “\When Chantrey first set up his carrfage, ho was ot to be borne. 1t wis all day: $Johm, tell Richard to desire Betly to ovder Mra. Chautrey's maid to tell’ Mra, Chantrey to scud down my snufl-hox, etes, ete .. . “8ir Robert Peel Ims not the manners of the nobllity. e wants naivefs and condescension of high birth. Ie always seeins to ane to possces the consclousness of a Jarvenu. One of the finest scenes ever wit- hessed with him happencd onceat the Royal Academy. Lady Chantrey was o lady's mald, It fs no mutter how Chantrey becume ace quainted with lier; he married ler, and fn due time he was knighted, and shie became Lady Chantrey. At the next privato day before the Exhibitlon opened, Sir Robert and Lady Peel came up to congratulate Chan- trey, who was then with Lis wifé. Chantrey nt once offered his arm to Lady Peel, and Sir RRob- ert eauld not do less thay take Lady Chantrey. Peel’s face, us Chantrey parmled bim all down the rooms, was o perfect study. The grand peos ple looked unutterable things, and whispered exquisite little satires as they passed. Peel wan botling over with pride and mortificatlon. Chane lru{. who was & Hurne-Tookite at heart, dellght, ol In thus sbowinge the power of station ina pan venn as well as hlinself, and had nmple revenge to the intense sotisfactionof the R. A.'s.”” Hay. slon concludes his anecdote with the characteris tle remark: * Hogarth or I could alone do Jus tice to the scene.” A]plcmnlur story-—one full of unclouded sunshine—is this, of the gentic poct Words \mll':h, whom Haydon loved with great sin cerlty: * On Taesday [1542] Wordsworth breakfasted with us alone, and went to church, aml after- warda to Lockhart, who took us to the Zoolog- feal—ay n part of the wild beasts. Wordsworil allver-hafred slmplleity contrasted with Lotk hart's arch milschiel, and was exquisite. Words- worth sat down to rest, and told us o delightful story, su beautifully, us If an Apostle was une beuding. 1 looked ip und saw Lockhart relishe ing the whole thing, os If for o moment be- witched out of Lis melancholy mocking. What an expression 1 caught then for one of my rtovus! 8o, when you eee t, re- momber. The | story was_ thlss A friend of Guinsboruuzh's Lad a swect child who was groing away to school. As her father waa kitasick bed, e was touched at partiug with ber. This catne to Galnsborough's ears. 8o Gatnshorough looked out for her, and gald to_ lier: * My Httle luve, can you keepa seerct 17 T don’t know,” said slic; *but 11 try.? ¢ Weli,’ said he, * you come to me to-mor- row.” She ctine, und Yie paluted ber portralt, in ovder that, when she was gunc, It might ba laced at the foot of papa's bed, to delight him. he child went to echool en]oyln{; her secret and the next morning, when her {ather npcncJ his eyes, there was the image of his durling look: Ing at Bl from the botton of his bed! *You pever heard any human being relate such ashinple story so touchinzly. It would Tave softened the hearts of the lons and tigers, could they have heard It As Wordsworth was telling this in a shad nook, I sltting by him, Lockhart before uas stand- inyz, and louk(nfismm placently down, the sun shone on Wordsworth's silvery hairs, while blg dull eyes, with that Iouk of Internal visloa never anw inany other face, 10ld of thought un- known to any but his Maker—and out came ot the window the long neck, and cali, large-oyed bead, of the cameleopard, asif above all husman anxicty, and with un alr of quiescent contempt for all'three of us, that was exquisite,” 8t 's Muscum, in London, contains an ex- tensive colleetion of curioeitics of every aart, bronght together by a mun of wealth, who, on his death, presented the whole to the city, for the benetit of the publie, In a letter to Miss Mitford, dated 1825, Haydon gives a little ac- count of the evening passed ut this populur lace of resort: 1 wus at Boane's last nizht o ece this sarcn{vlmgus by lamp-light. The Hrst person I met, after seventeen years, was Coles ridge, sllver-hnired! He Jooked at m bald ' front, and I at his hatr, with mutual and nutual lovks ol “1;1 puihy bead-shaking. It ed ine very much, and =0 it scemed to affect him, T did not know what to_say, nor did he; aud then, in his chwnte Ingz way, half-poctieal, balf-ineplred, half-ldk te, he began to console me by trytug to prove that the only way fur a mun of genius to be happy was just to put furth no more_power than Wus sullicient for the purposcs of the age in which hie Mved, us i geniua was a power one could fold up like a parasol! At this moment over camg Spurzhelm, with his German simplicity, snd shinking my hand: *How doe you doet Vy, our orzans are more parfalte den caver, Ilow luckee you lose your hatr. Veel you pearmeet me 1o elutrowdnozd you to Mrs. Spurzhctm P 1 woy pushed agafnst Tarner, the lundseape-painter, with his red face and white walstcoat, and, he- fore 1 conld sea Mrs. S&mrzllulm. was carrled off my lus, and frretrievably bustled to whers the sarcophigus lay. . 's house 18 a perfect Cretan labyrinth; carfous, narrow stajreases, lunding-places, bal- conles, kpring dovrs, and Httle rooms filled with frazments to the very celling, Tt was the finest fun Imaginable to s¢s the people cond: into the , ibrary after wandering ubout below, umidst tombs, and eapitals, snd shafts, and nolscless licads, with 4 sort ot “Y'mm of dellghited re- Iief at finding themselyes ngain amony the Tivimg, and witheoffee and cakel . . . Fancy delicate Jadles of fashion dipping thelr pretty Niewds into an old, moldy, fusty, hisroglyplicked collln, blessing their stars at fta age, wonderlug whom it contained, and whispering that it was mentjoued In Pliny, . ., jnul. as Iwus ginning to meditate, the Duke of Sussex, with ustaron his brenst, and an asthma lnside it, camng squeezing and wheezling along the narrow passage, driviug ald the wonien befors him Iike A Blucheard, and, tting his Roya) head into the cotlin, added s womler to the wonder of the rest. Up-stairs stood Soane, spure, thin, caustic, and starched, *movk tho thiny t{:‘: Junghed nt,* as he siniled nY probation of praises bestowed on his magnitlesnt house.” ———————— PLAY THE HARP, * Strike tho harp with ingers light, Piay with ekillful bands to-night; et nweet notes woftly ascend, Gentle volees with them blead; Let the suul now wafted bo Un the wings of melody, Gently plsy the harp to-nlght Datress oug, with yes 80 Lrikhts Breathing forth & sweot rufrain, Let it biud tho inyutic chali M enchantinent ‘round the suul, Al life's sorrowa 1o control. Buttly play the baep to-might, Ak aronuel tho fircel o brizhs Gathers the family-cicclo thers, Teating frow life’s woary toll and esrs, Aund let ench sou] for awhile e free From u ¢cold world's scornful wockary. Then strike the chords, audletthestrats Breatho forth & swect atid spit rofraln, Letting enchanteut withh us dwell, Hinding us with Ite wpell ‘Hhea avake lhoharp.u?ull m:rmg 2 cach Weary sual W Ight. Dacavok, ith DB M