Practical home cookery

for making themselves comfortable. How many thousands there are who, having good gardens, yet never use them except to walk in ! For breakfast or tea what better spot can be chosen than a shady corner of the lawn ? yet how often do we find this done ? Probably many would say, “ Oh, but the people next door can see us.” As a nation we are undoubtedly very shy and ungregarious. This latter quality, if one may be allowed to use the expression, is particularly shown at railway -stations. You may walk down a long train and find one man in each compartment, and each one glares at you if you attempt to enter. The constitutional shyness of the middle classes has a strong ally in the constitutional rudeness of the lower. Many years ago almost the only lunch obtainable in London was a Bath bun, washed down with tepid ginger-beer. But this bun had to be eaten under difficulties. First, the extraordinary height of the stool on which one was bound to sit made one giddy; then a crowd of small boys, with noses flattened white against the window outside, would carry on a running conversation, such as " Give us a bit, guv ’nor,” etc. Unfortunately, the faster you tried to eat the bun, the more it choked you ; and as to the ginger-beer, it too often refused to go anywhere except to the nose. A lunch is stiU a great difficulty in certain parts of London. It would be an interesting Parliamentary return — first, the number of hcensed victuallers in London ; secondly, the number of licensed victuallers who sold victuals. Were any one, some hot day, to place a small table on the pavement, and sit down and eat an ice, as thousands do in Paris, the result would be such a crowd that one would probably be locked up for the night for obstructing the public thoroughfare. There is, perhaps, no dish so suitable for hot weather as curry. But there are curries and curries. I have seen some that have made me shudder to look at them. If you see pieces of meat on a large dish, almost swimming in a quantity of bright, light-coloured yellow gravy, people will probably call it curry ; but my advice is, don’t eat any if you can get anything else. I will try to describe how it ought to be done. Say the dish is curried sweetbreads. The sweetbreads must be fried as directed in the article entitled “ Uses and Abuses of a Frying-pan.” The curry sauce must be poured round them directly they are done, and this sauce is made as follows : — We will describe how to make enough for about six people. First, take six large onions, and peel and slice them, and fry them a nice brown colour in a stew-pan, using about two ounces of butter. Next take two apples, about the same size, or rather larger than the onions, and as sour as possible. Peel them, remove the core, sUce, and add to the onions in the stew-pan, then add a pint of good strong stock. Stir it all up, and let the whole boil till the apples are quite soft. Add to this a large brimming dessert-spoonful of currypaste, and a good-sized tea-spoonful of ordinary curry-powder. The whole of this must be rubbed through a fine wire sieve, with a large wooden spoon. If you have not patience to rub it all through, you can’t make curry.