In foreign kitchens

each year crossing the sea, becomes more and more difficult. But it can be done, and is done, and the housekeeper on the Continent, of whatever nationality, who discovers a real desire on the part of the American to know and understand the reason of varying methods, gives every detail with charming frankness, and glows with pride as she brings out family receipt-books, and describes the gradual evolution of some family custom, or some famous dish. There are formulas so sacred that she would not share them with her own countrywomen, yet gives them readily to this stranger, who cannot be suspected of any desire to rival or outshine her. Best authority of all is the old housekeeper, the Grossmutter, who, serene in her sheltered corner, recounts the triumphs of her day, and the quantities and qualities unknown to these degenerate descendants. She holds the unwritten traditions; formulas fastened in the mind by many repetitions, and regarded as part of her personal wealth. " How did you learn ? '* I asked one of these authorities, a stately dame quite sev- enty, who held tenaciously to every old custom, and regarded a French menu with a species of horror. "How did you learn? Did the cooks teach you their secrets ? *' Deep disdain sat on the old lady's countenance. " The cooks ! Lieber Gott ! what have cooks to do with such? It is my mother, the blessed one, who has taught me, and she has received it from her mother, and so goes it always, — from mother to daughter, from mother to daughter ever." " But does not the cook know also ? What is the cook for ? " *' The cook is for her own work, but never for such high things. Oh, the cook, too, may know a secret, but not these. For we think always one thing. Who would honor a guest most, or most please the Hausvater, so must she with her own hands the high dish prepare, and then is it more geschmacksvoll — what you will call of more relish. The cook is always for what must be; for all preparation that needs always much time; for all that is rough; yet even that must one know, else how shall one properly scold? To scold well, and justly, needs always to know why one must so do ; else how could it serve any turn but for the cook to laugh secretly in a sleeve, as you say? No cook of mine laughed ever in a sleeve. All knew that I knew well." Thus the old lady, whose cheeks had flushed, and whose eyes flashed with their ancient fires as she looked back on this perspective of cooks; the Frau Rath, still, Widow of a famous counsellor, and certain that all old days were better than any possibility in the new. A son had gone to America, and found place and honor there. A daughter had followed. There were many grandchildren, at whose republican opinions the old lady shook her head, too indignant often for words. But they, too, cared for the old customs and listened to her with delight; and she forgave them and talked on, certain that such traditions would go far toward undoing the baleful effects of revolutionary theories of life. In the mean time the oldest daughter, her successor and administrator, kept the house on its old footing; and so I found it, when rare good