DOMESTIC RECEIPTS. To keep Game or Poultry. Tie them tight round the neck. so as to exclude the air, and put a piece of charcoal in their bodies. Essence of Nutmeg.-This is made by dissolvng one ounce of the essential oil in a pint of ectified spirits. It is an expensive, but an inaluable mode of flavouring in the arts of the ook or confectioner.-S. J. M. To Purify Stagnant Water.-One part of chalk nd two of alum will speedily purify stagnant ater, and four parts of animal carbon, and one f alum, are sufficient to purify a thousand parts f muddy river water.-S. J. M. Short Biscuits.-Half a pound of butter, half pound of sifted sugar, 1 egg, a little ginger, id a few carraway-seeds, with as much flour will make it into a paste; roll it out and cut into biscuits. Essence of Ginger.-Let four ounces of Jaica ginger be well bruised, and put it into a t of rectified spirits of wine. Let it remain ortnight, then press and filter it. A little nce of cayenne may be added, if wished .M. ice Fritters.-Take half a pound of rice, it in water till tender, strain it to one quart hick cream, boil it well with one blade of mace cinnamon if preferred), thicken with some , add seven eggs, sweeten to your taste, put ome nutmeg, fry them in batter, and strew I over them. asty Pudding.-Set some milk on the fire, when it boils, put in a little salt. Stir in legrees as much flour as will make it of oper thickness. Let it boil quickly a few ites, beating it constantly while on the fire. it into a dish, and eat it with cold butter sugar. Some persons add eggs to this.Tamended by S. JOHNSON. puff-paste cut round. Do them over with egg and bread crumbs, and fry a light brown; they must be served on a napkin. Mock Turtle Soup.-Boil a leg of beef with fried carrots, onions, parsley, thyme, cloves and pepper, celery, and a large piece of baked bread to a good stock. After cleaning the calf's head (with the skin on) boil it three-quarters of an hour by itself, cut the meat in moderate pieces, strain the stock through a sieve; when cold take off the fat; boil the meat in the stock till. very tender, with some knotted marjoram and basil in a bag; if not hot enough, add some cayenne pepper. It improves by keeping two or three days; a little sherry may be added. Punch should be drank with this soup.-N. B. To thicken the above, as well as other soups and gravies, bake some flour till it becomes a rich brown, and gradually mix with some of the soup. Pour Baked Chicken Pudding. Cut up a pair of young chickens, and season them with pepper and salt, and a little mace and nutmeg. Put them into a pot, with two large spoonsful of butter, and water enough to cover them. Stew them gently; and, when about half cooked, take them out and set them away to cool. off the gravy, and reserve it to be served up separately. In the meantime, make a batter as if for a pudding, of a pound of sifted flour stirred gradually into a quart of milk, six eggs well beaten and added by degrees to the mixture, and a very little salt. Put a layer of chicken in the bottom of a deep dish, and pour over it chicken, and then some more batter; and so on some of the batter; then another layer of till the dish is full, having a cover of batter at the top. Bake it till it is brown. Then break an egg into the gravy which you have set away, give it a boil, and send it to table in a sauceboat, to eat with the pudding.—J. W. Haunch of Venison Roasted.-Take a haunch, weighing twelve pounds, and require the butcher make Puff-paste.-Instead of flour, sprinkle "baking-powder" on each layer of butter; the butter melts, it will cause the powder fervesce and puff up the paste; the oven to be rather quick at first. To make the ting powder," take one ounce of carbonate da, and 7 drachms of Tartaric acid, mix it may be conveniently applied by means ommon pepper-pot kept for the purpose. bridge Pancakes.-Beat 4 eggs with 4 table-light brown; continue to baste with butter, sful of flour, a little nutmeg and salt, pint of milk, a quarter of a pound of butter d into it when nearly cold, mix altogether One ounce of sugar. Warm the pan over the and put in a sufficient quantity of the to make a very thin pancake without any fry them, and only fry one side; strew between them, and place the brown side to trim off the chine-bone and the end of the knuckle; wrap two or three folds of buttered paper, or the caul of a lamb, closely around the haunch to prevent its fat from burning; spit the haunch, set it before a slow fire, and roast it three hours, basting it frequently with salt and water, to prevent the paper from burning off; then remove the paper or caul, baste the haunch with butter, set it nearer the fire, and give it a most. les.-Take a quarter of a pound of any [ cold meat, mince fine with a large spoonsuet or small piece of butter, and same of crumbs; a little parsley, and lemon-peel pepper, salt, and spice. Mix all together gravy, and one or two whites of eggs. it into balls, and fry them a light brown; hit the bread crumbs, and put it between dredge it lightly with flour, and when it is well frothed and browned on all sides, it is done; wrap a ruffle of cut paper round the knucklebone, and send the haunch to the table with a plain gravy, made from the trimmings of the venison, and seasoned only with a little salt; serve with currant jelly. If the venison has hung three or four weeks, (and it ought to hang as long before cooking,) it will be necessary to take off the outer skin before roasting. Neck and Shoulder of Venison.-The neck and shoulder of venison may be roasted without the paper or caul, mentioned above. Larden with thin slices of salt pork or boiled ham; garnish with sorrel, and make a gravy as above. A shoulder of ten pounds will roast in two hours.— R. H. Leicester. ELLEN LYNDHURST ; CHAPTER XVII. THE YOUNG CLERGYMAN-NEW SYMPATHIES. drove off slowly, exclaiming, "That is a gen'leman!" Doctor came in for a very fair share of affectionate salutations. Of course when "brother Will" had got fairly landed, there were endless questions asked upon every possible topic of a domestic character, refreshments were laid out, and kisses exchanged-and there was such a mixture of laughing, talking, eating, drinking, kissing, wondering, and exclaiming, that it was rather fortunate THE next day Mr. William Montague that Dr. Montague, who was a man of reached his father's house. Long before very even temperament, was out of the his arrival two pairs of bright eyes were way at the time, and arrived at a stage seen peering out over the window-blind, when the excitement of the two young and eagerly scanning the farthest line of ladies and their brother had considerably sight. Every cab that drew near the door subsided. Then the rejoicing was reraised their excitement to an extreme pitch,newed, with some modifications, and the but it fell again as the vehicle passed by, leaving them nothing but disappointment. At length one appeared, drawn by a jaded horse, whose sides were throwing off a cloud of steam; the driver checked the wearied brute, and looked from side to side, as if scanning the numbers of the doors. The bright eyes grew brighter, and the brows which arched over them were flattened by pressure against the glass, until it seemed likely that the latter would be forcibly driven from its rightful place; when a head, enveloped in a velvet cap, and the shoulders which supported the head, were thrust out of the window of the cab, and a voice gave directions to the driver, while an outstretched arm pointed to the destination. There was a joyful ery within the parlour window, the bright eyes disappeared, a bell was heard to ring with a kind of metallic fury, the door flew open while the cabman held the knocker in his hand, so that that worthy functionary, with all his numerous capes of dirty drab cloth, was nearly drawn headlong into the doorway. The servants formed a tableau in the background, while William Montague, springing from the cab, caught a sister in each arm, and hugged and kissed them until the cabman fancied there had been enough of that sort of thing, and shouted out, "Now, sir! wot's to be done with this 'ere luggage?" The servants took the hint and the luggage at the same time-the cabman received a liberal fare, which caused him to give a respectful glance at the house, and to look into the window, and, although he saw nobody there, he touched his hat, and VOL. VIL-NO. XCIV. Mr. William Montague, being the youngest son, had been very much at home, prior to his recent college life. He was of a very lively disposition, and Louisa and himself were noted for their constant freaks of innocent merriment. William was a great favourite with the ladies through an extensive circle; he always took the lead at evening parties, danced in every dance, sung the funniest songs, accompanying himself upon the piano, and making the young ladies' sides actually ache at the drollery with which he sang "Why don't the men propose? and such-like ditties. He knew all the household games, and had a store of the funniest and most perplexing forfeits which ever fell to the lot of a Christmas party. Nor was his merriment altogether of a frivolous character. He had a magic lantern, and often gave an evening's entertain nent, with illustrations of astronomy, botany, or natural history. He was also a bit of a chemist, and would perform most extraordinary experiments, suddenly turning sugar into charcoal, and making fire burn under water. He would play tricks with the teapot, by stopping up the vent, so that no tea would run out; and while a lady turned her head he would invert her cup without spilling the contents, and the company would laugh at her perplexity how to set it right again. He carried luminous bottles in his pocket, by which he played all sorts of pranks when the room grew dark; and he would form the features of a zoological collection by T the shadows of his hands against the wall. These traits of character rendered him a favourite everywhere. People said that it was a mistake to make a clergyman of him; but his father felt an ambition that a son of his should fill the sacred office. We forgot to mention, among his numerous accomplishments, that he could play the violin in a manner very comical if not musical, and that somehow or other he, could imitate various animals, instruments, and performers upon it. And nothing pleased him better than to dress himself up as an old woman, and to play before the window, when an evening party had assembled, having previously arranged that he should be asked in, and that, after amusing the company with his performances, he should fling his cap and bonnet aside, and declare himself. Many funny stories were told of the successful manner in which he had carried out these innocent merry-makings. He was quite a poet, too, as could be evidenced by a large number of ladies' scrap-books; which also bore testimony to his ability as an artist, -for, although he had never produced a masterpiece with the brush, he handled the pencil with considerable effect; and some of his moonlight scenes, in Indian ink, depicting gondoliers serenading Venetian mistresses, were pronounced to be perfect gems, among romantic young ladies who delighted in such subjects. The reader will not wonder, therefore, why the sisters looked forward with so much pleasure to the arrival of their pet brother. And it may readily be imagined that the number of young ladies who visited Dr. Montague's house very perceptibly increased the moment it became known that the "young clergyman" had reached home. Perhaps, also, under all the circumstances, it might be expected and allowed, that the young ladies, having seen their favourite in almost every variety of costume, should desire to see how he looked as a clergyman with his surplice on. And he may be acquitted of any charge of irreverence if it is admitted that as many as two or three times a day he donned the sacred robes and walked up and down the room, to the great gratification of a circle of visitors, who sat at respectful distances from him, and whispered their admiration to each other, with certain hints that he could not long remain a bachelor,-he looked so attractive. There was only one drawback to Louisa's complete enjoyment of her brother's return-it was the absence of Alfred Beresford. She had written so much of him to her brother, and had said so much of her brother to him, that she felt his absence very severely; and the more so because William constantly questioned her about "the genius," who was to divide with him the glory of their social sphere. He even ventured to jest with Louisa upon the subject; but finding that it depressed her, he abstained from pursuing it too far. Alfred's return was looked forward to by the family with much anticipation. The sisters frequently talked upon the cause of his absence, and the depression of his spirits which they had of late frequently noted. They could, however, find no satisfactory clue to the cause thereof, until Louisa received the following letter: "My dear Louisa,-I have halted at Exeter for the night-there is no conveyance to Windmere until eleven to-morrow morning. The country in this neighbourhood is exceedingly beautiful, and but for my anxiety of mind I should have enjoyed the latter part of my journey very much. Gentle slopes covered with rich foliage, and winding streams that sport among loose pieces of granite, and murmur a plaintive song as they sweep through the valleys and kiss the flowers as they pass; cattle grazing upon generous pastures; children with rosy cheeks sporting before the doors of cottages o'ergrown with roses; with here and there an old ivy-covered ruin, suggesting that ambition, power, and life itself are ever fleeting, and that the proud man's palace of to-day may become the play-ground of the peasant's children in a future age-these are the chief characteristics of the country through which I am passing, a country dear to me because of the recollections of my child. hood-the sunshine and sorrows of my youth. "I have felt that I left you unkindly in concealing from you the purpose of my present and unexpected visit to Windmere. My conduct has been unlike your open and generous confidence in me. The fact is, at the time of my departure, I scarcely felt at liberty to state the object of my visit, because it involves the affairs of two other persons, one of whom is very dear to me. And I feared lest by any indiscretion of mine, circumstances might become public, which had better be consigned to oblivion as soon as possible. 'Reflecting, however, upon your kind interest in me, and the benefits I am daily receiving from the respect and confidence of your family, I have determined to tell you all, to ask your sympathy, and the assistance of your judgment. "You have heard of Charles Langford, of whom Dr. Montague's brother has repeatedly spoken in terms of reprobation. By a singular chain of circumstances he has been introduced to a very dear cousin of mine-one who has been a sister to me —and has, under false pretences, made an impression upon her heart which, unless it is effaced soon, may be fatal to her happiness for ever. I have already written to her upon the subject, but the result of our correspondence has only served to show me how deeply she has become attached to him, and how gravely she is mistaken. A noble and generous-hearted girl, she believes all my representations to be based upon misconceptions or calumnies, which she says are too prevalent in the world. Some circumstances sufficiently conclusive of Langford's character having come to my knowledge on the day of my departure, I determined to go to Windmere at once, to check the evil which, if not done now, may assume a power too great for me to resist. "I have a most painful duty to perform. I know that at first my words will be received with distrust; that I shall be blamed for officious meddling, and that when at last the truth becomes known, my cousin's heart will be almost broken, and that she will probably hate me for having dispelled the dream she was cherishing. But I am determined to fulfil my duty, at any cost. I shall see my cousin first, and if I cannot succeed in impressing her -if she proves still too weak and confiding in the deceiver, I shall appeal to her father, and Langford's uncle, and strive to save her in spite of herself. 36 Pray, dear Louisa, pardon me for having withheld this confidence so long. Use it wisely. It is very desirable that my departure, and the purpose of it, should not be known to Charles Langford at present. "With kindest remembrances, believe me, my dear Louisa, your affectionate friend, "ALFRED." The perusal of the letter afforded some relief to the family, who were previously perplexed by the doubt which hung over the circumstance of Alfred's departure. Louisa's heart was lightened, and she looked upon Alfred more and more as being a noble-minded youth. The sisters talked the subject over with their father, and a reply was written of which we feel it necessary to give only an extract: "We all sympathize deeply with the subject of your visit, and pray for you every success. Our dear father, moving very much in the most opposite classes of society, has had ample opportunities of confirming your views of Langford's character, and he has no hesitation in saying that unless a very decided and improbable reformation took place, your cousin's happiness would be destroyed for ever by her union with him. Although we are unknown to her, yet when occasion arrives, present to her our most sisterly sympathies. Tell her that we have known and admired her through your representations for a long time. And suggest that a change of scene may relieve her mind and enable her the more readily to overcome the shock she will receive. her an asylum here, where she shall be treated as a sister; where, with whatever advantages our society can afford her, she may enjoy the privilege of your own. And tell her and her papa that our dear father concurs heartily in this suggestion, and offers his warmest sympathy and aid towards her consolation." CHAPTER XVIII. VILLAGE LIFE.-A TIMELY WARNING. Offer WE have said little of the village of Windmere, the chief scene of our story; and before the more important events of our plot engage the attention of the reader, we will briefly sketch its features, and those of a few of its inhabitants. We have already said that the village was one of those sweet spots, upon which Nature has lavished her charms. It stood |
