Fruits, grains, and vegetables are too often purposely sent to table half cooked, so that the shape may not be spoiled. In all such cases the eye is gratified at the expense of the stomach. The idea that these articles, when ready for the table, should present the same form and appearance as when uncooked, is, in my judgment, 158 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. a very erroneous one. Food of every kind should be thoroughly cooked — even though in the oper- ation all form and comeliness be destroyed — as it is then more palatable and nutritious to healthy stomachs. There is, however, a vast difference between thorousfh cookino: and too much cookino:. Food is as effectually spoiled by too much as by too little cooking ; and any one wishing to excel in culinarj^ science must note carefully the dis- tinction, and strike the happy medium. If veg- etables were properly cooked, and fruits properly prepared for the table, they could scarcely fail to be always acceptable to the average appetite, and would soon force themselves into general use. I may be too enthusiastic ; but I look forward hope- fully to the time when they will be so cooked and prepared ; and when cartloads of vegetables will be consumed where an occasional mess is now deemed sufficient ; and when fruits, cooked and uncooked, v^ill be considered as essential to a meal as bread or meat." After dinner Emeline and I were on the veranda, chatting in an indolent, indifferent way, on various topics, when Alice aj^peared with the small gilt- edged volume, and interrupted us by saying, — " Mamma, I've brought this * Memoir of Helen Douglas,' to read you some extracts. I have always detested memoirs, and thought them the stupidest of books, calculated only to bore amia- m THE ORCHAED. 159 ble and wcll-clisposed people. But this differs in that respect from the usual memoir. I have marked some passages that I think suggestive as well as beautiful. Shall I read them to you ? " " By all means, if Cousin Kate doesn't object," was Emelinc's reply. "Cousin Kate," I said, "will be delighted to hear them." Alice then read : — " ' To the average mind the idea of immortal life presents itself simply as a continuation, after death, of the life we hav6 lived in this world, extending through eternity; free, however, from all the cares and sorrows, all the pains and infirm- ities, of this mortal existence. But if we retain our personal consciousness in eternity, will we not retain also the faculties that were essential to our development jn time? Or will all our emo- tions, passions, feelings, be sloughed off with our flesh by death ? How will we recognize beyond the grave those whom we loved so fondly here ? Will my lost Helen meet me years hence the same gentle being that went from my sorrowing gaze ? Or will she be changed, re-created, formed anew? How slyill I know her " in the land that keeps Tlie disembodied spirits of the dead " ? Or what assurance have I that our love shall not 160 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. change with a change of existence? O God, why am I tormented with these painful question- ings ? '

AI-modernized reading of the original text

Fruits, grains, and vegetables are too often purposely sent to table half cooked, so that the shape may not be spoiled. In all such cases the eye is gratified at the expense of the stomach. The idea that these articles, when ready for the table, should present the same form and appearance as when uncooked, is, in my judgment, a very erroneous one. Food of every kind should be thoroughly cooked — even though in the operation all form and comeliness be destroyed — as it is then more palatable and nutritious to healthy stomachs. There is, however, a vast difference between thorough cooking and too much cooking. Food is as effectually spoiled by too much as by too little cooking ; and any one wishing to excel in culinary science must note carefully the distinction, and strike the happy medium. If vegetables were properly cooked, and fruits properly prepared for the table, they could scarcely fail to be always acceptable to the average appetite, and would soon force themselves into general use. I may be too enthusiastic ; but I look forward hopefully to the time when they will be so cooked and prepared ; and when cartloads of vegetables will be consumed where an occasional mess is now deemed sufficient ; and when fruits, cooked and uncooked, v^ill be considered as essential to a meal as bread or meat." After dinner Emeline and I were on the veranda, chatting in an indolent, indifferent way, on various topics, when Alice aj^peared with the small giltedged volume, and interrupted us by saying, — " Mamma, I've brought this * Memoir of Helen Douglas,' to read you some extracts. I have always detested memoirs, and thought them the stupidest of books, calculated only to bore amia- [illustration: IN THE ORCHARD. 159] ble and well-disposed people. But this differs in that respect from the usual memoir. I have marked some passages that I think suggestive as well as beautiful. Shall I read them to you ? " " By all means, if Cousin Kate doesn't object," was Emelinc's reply. "Cousin Kate," I said, "will be delighted to hear them." Alice then read : — " ' To the average mind the idea of immortal life presents itself simply as a continuation, after death, of the life we hav6 lived in this world, extending through eternity; free, however, from all the cares and sorrows, all the pains and infirmities, of this mortal existence. But if we retain our personal consciousness in eternity, will we not retain also the faculties that were essential to our development jn time? Or will all our emotions, passions, feelings, be sloughed off with our flesh by death ? How will we recognize beyond the grave those whom we loved so fondly here ? Will my lost Helen meet me years hence the same gentle being that went from my sorrowing gaze ? Or will she be changed, re-created, formed anew? How slyill I know her " in the land that keeps Tlie disembodied spirits of the dead " ? Or what assurance have I that our love shall not change with a change of existence? O God, why am I tormented with these painful questionings ? '

Cooking and castle-building