Most reviews of Cookery books that have fallen under our observation, have been so extremely witty, that it was not possible for us, who love facetiæ, to attend to the instruction conveyed along with the amusement; and, consequently, we are at this hour ignorant of the leading principles of several Systems, which it is the duty of every head of a house to understand. Now, in our opinion, cookery is by much too serious a subject for joking; and, therefore, in this our short critique, we shall cautiously refrain from all sallies of imagination, and solemnly dedicate ourselves to the cause of science and truth.

Be it known, then, to all men by these presents, that this is a work worthy to be placed on the same shelf with Hunter, Glasse, Rundell, and Kitchener. We are confident that the Doctor will be delighted with it, and if any purchaser is known to give a bad dinner, after it has been a fortnight in his possession, the case may be given up as hopeless. The individual who has ingeniously personated Meg Dods, is evidently no ordinary writer, and the book is really most excellent miscellaneous reading. There has been a good deal of affectation of humour in some culinary authors,-too much seasoning and spicery,-unnecessarily ornate garnishing of dishes that in their own native loveliness are, "when unadorned, adorned the most." But here we have twenty or thirty grave, sober, instructive, business-like pages, right on end, without one particle of wit whatever; then come as many more sprinkled with facetiæ and then half a dozen of broad mirth and merriment. This alternation of grave and gay is exceedingly agreeable -something in the style of Blackwood's Magazine. But at the same time we are bound to say, in justice to Mrs Dods, that the "House

keeper's Manual," is entirely free from that personality which too frequently disgraces that celebrated work.†

Mrs Dods prefaces her work by directions for carving, most of which are, we think, judicious, although, perhaps, they smack somewhat too much of the old school. A hint is thrown out, that the rudiments of the art should be taught practically in childhood, " on plain joints and cold things," that in after-life "provisions may not be haggled." Mrs Dods believes that although there are awkward grown-up persons, having, as the French say, two left hands, whom no labour will ever make dexterous carvers, yet that there is no difficulty in the art, which most young learners, if early initiated under the eyes of their friends, might not easily surmount. We believe this view of human nature to be just. Young persons of both sexes, of the most humble talents, provided they have ten fingers, (five on each hand,) may certainly be made fair carvers-and we have ourselves known not a few instances of boys, who were absolute dolts at the art, becoming men distinguished at the foot of the table.

No

The "carver's maxim" (which our readers may drink this afternoon in a bumper) is, according to Mrs Dods, "to deal small and serve all." doubt at large parties it is so; and that is the fatal objection to large parties. Ten hungery men eye a small jigot "o' the black-faced" with mixed pleasure and pain, when they all know that they must be helped according to the "carver's maxim." The best friends, so relatively placed, begin to dislike each other, and the angry wonder with them all is, why so many people of different characters and professions, perhaps countries, should agree in eating mutton? Therefore we love a partie quarrè. No dish

+ Indeed?-C. N.

-unless absurdly small indeed-of which each of Us Four may not have a satisfactory portion. The "carver's maxim" is forgotten, or remembered only with a smile, and at such a board alone can liberty and equality at each side of the square preside.

At a large party, we hold that it is a physical impossibility to get anything to eat. Eating does not consist in putting cold, greasy, animal food into your mouth. That, we repeat, is not eating. Eating consists in putting into your mouth (chewing, swallow ing, &c. of course), warm, juicy, thinnish or thickish, fat or lean, morsels of animal food, precisely at the nick of time. A minute too soon or five minutes too late, and you may cram, but to eat is impossible. What can one waiter do among so many? And if you have six waiters, what then? Confusion worse confounded. You see a great hulking fellow, perhaps with the ties of his neckcloth a yard long, powdered highly, and in a pawnbroker's coat, carrying off your plate to a greedy Whig on the opposite side of the table, who devours the Pope's Eye before your face, in all the bitterness of party-spirit. A sturdy, squat, broad-shouldered, red-headed scoundrel serves you the same trick, with an insolent leer, in favour of a Tory, a man of the same political principles with yourself, a member of the Pitt Club, and an occasional minor writer in Blackwood, who makes a show of sending the rich-freighted trencher round to you, its lawful owner, but, at the same moment, lets drop into the dark-hued gravy a plash of yellow beaten turnips, destined to his own maw. A grave-looking man, like a minister, comes solemnly be hind your chair, and stretching forward a plate, which you doubt not is to make you happy at last, asks, in solemn accents, for a well-browned potatoe, and then lodges the deposit in the hands of mine host's accommodating banker. A spruce, dapper, little tarrier, who, during forenoons, officiates as a barber, absolutely lifts up, with irresistible dexterity, your plate the moment after he has put it down before you, and making apology for the mistake, carries it off to a red-faced woman of a certain age, who calls for bread with the lungs of a Stentor. Then will an aged man, with a bald head, blind and deaf as a dog in his

teens, but still employed at good men's feasts on account of character, which saving almost constant drunkenness is unexceptionable, totter past with your plate, supported against his breast with feeble fingers; and unawakenable by the roar of a cannon, in spite of all your vociferation, he delivers up the largest prize in the lottery to a lout whom you hope, on no distant day, to see hanged. By this time anger has quelled appetite, and when, by some miraculous interposition of providence in your favour, you find yourself in possession of the fee-simple of a slice of mutton at last, it is a short, round, thick squab of a piece, at once fat and bloody, inspiring deep and permanent disgust, and sickening you into aversion to the whole dinner.

When the party is large, therefore, adopt the following advice, and you may be far from unhappy, although one of twenty-four. Look out for a dish neither illustrious nor obscurea dish of unpretending modest merit, which may be overlooked by the greedy multitude, and which the man of judgment, can alone descry-a dish of decent dimensions, and finding, although not seeking, concealment under the dazzle of the epergne-a dish rather broad than high-a dish which thus but one of many, and in its unambitious humbleness almost lost in the crowd, might nevertheless be in its single self a dinner to a man and his wife at the guestless board-select, we say, such a dish

if such a dish there be-and draw in your chair quietly opposite to it, however ugly may be the women on either side of you, yea even if the lady of the house insist on your sitting higher up the table. Be abosolute and determined-your legs are under the mahogany-rise not-pay a compliment to the fearsome dear on your right hand, and to the no less alarming spinster on the left-and, without any thoughts of soup or fish, help yourself plentifully, but carelessly, to your own chosen dish, and Da Capo. Don't betray yourself by any overheard demonstrations of delight, but, if pos sible, eat with an air of indifference and non-chalance. Lay down your knife and fork now and then, if you can bring your mind to submit to a moment's delay, and look about you with a smile, as if dedicated to agreeable conversation, badinage, and repartee. Should any one suspect your

doings, and ask what is that dish before you, shake your head, and make a face, putting your hand at the same time to your stomach, and then, with a mischievous eye, offering to send some of the nameless stew. All this time there are people at the table who have not had a morsel, and whom you see crumbling down their bread to appease the cravings of hunger. You have laid a famous foundation for any superstructure you may be pleased at your leisure to erect-have drank wine with both fair supporters—and Peebles ale with the Bailie-are in a mood to say witty things, and say them accordingly-and in the gladness of your heart, offer to carve a sinewy old fowl, safely situated two covers off, and who, when taken in hand by the gentleman to whom he of right belongs, will be found to be a tougher job than the dismemberment of Poland.

Contrive it so that you are done, on solemn entrance of the goose. Catch mine host's eye at that critical moment, and you secure the first hot slice, while the apple-sauce seems absolutely to simmer. Do not scruple to say, that you have been waiting for the goose, for by that egregious lie you will get double commons. Public attention, too, being thus directed to the waiter who holds your plate, he must deliver it safe up into your hands, and all attempts to interrupt it in its progress prove abortive. Ĥaving thus the start in goose, you come in early for macaroni-tarts and puddings and as we suppose you to have a steady, not a voracious appetite, why, after cheese, which like hope comes to all, we really see no reason to doubt your having made a very tolerable dinner.

But perhaps you have got yourself so entangled in the drawing-room with a woman with a long train and a bunch of blue feathers, that you cannot choose your position, and are forced to sit down before a ham. An argument arises whether it be Westmoreland, Dumfries-shire, or Westphalia, and every person present expresses a determination to bring the point to the decision of the palate. Instantly avow, with a face of blushing confusion, that you would not attempt to haggle such a ham for worlds-that in early life you were little accustomed to carving, having lived with a minister of small stipend and low board, who on meat

66

days always cut up the hough himself, so that he had never sent out an even tolerable carver from the manse. If that sort of excuse won't do, down with the middle finger of your right hand, and holding it out piteously, exhibit the effect of temporary cramp or permanent rheumatism. Should neither expedient occur or be plausible, then on with a determined countenance, a bold eye, and a gruff voice, and declare that you took an oath many years ago, never to help a ham," which you have religiously kept through good report and bad report, and which it would be, indeed, most culpable weakness in you to break, now that your raven locks are beginning to be silvered with the insiduous grey. Then tell the waiter who is like a minister, to take the ham to Mr Drysdale, or Mr Dempster, two of the best carvers in existence, for that it does a man's heart good to see the dexterity with which they distribute at the festive board. You thus avoid an evil under which many a better man has sunk, and can turn unshackled to serious eating.

In good truth, much as we admire the noble art of carving, it is the very last we should wish to possess in our own person. To be called on for a song is nothing-you can have your revenge on him who asks it by inflicting the torment in return, and on the whole company by bellowing like a bull in a mountainous region. But the celebrated carver is at the mercy of every stomach. Orders come showering in upon him faster than he can supply them; the company behave towards him like boys following each other on a slide, at what they call "keeping the pie warm." No sooner are his weapons down, than they are up again; particular cuts are politely, and even flatteringly insinuated. Ladies eat ham who never ate ham before, only that they may admire the delicate transparency ;—well-known eating characters change plates upon him, that they may not appear to have been helped before ;-and the lady of the house simpers with a sweet voice,

the mouth of Mrs Haliburton; and on the great question of "whether Westmoreland, Dumfries-shire, or Westphalia," Mr Dempster gives no vote, for he has tasted only half a small mouthful of the brown, as sweet as sugar, and more like vegetable than animal matter.

Perhaps, therefore, on entering into private life, a young man had better let it be generally diffused that he is no carver. In that case he must take his chance of the cut-and-come-again, and will have the good sense to carve cautiously, awkwardly, and clumsily, that he may not acquire a good character. Ere long it will be said of him by some friend, to whom thenceforth he owes a family dinner once a-month, that Tom Hastie is a wretched carver. To the truth of this apothegm, Tom bows acquiescence; and difficult dishes are actually removed from before him, lest he should mar their fair proportions, and leave them in shapeless ruin. In a few years, go where he will, he is never asked to carve anything beyond a haggis; and thus the whole precious dinner-time is left open for uninterrupted stuffing. Once or twice, in a period of ten years, he insists on being suffered to undertake the goose, when he makes a leg spin among the array on the sideboard, and drenches many ladies in a shower of gravy. On the credit of which exploit he escapes carving for an indefinate number of years; for it is amazing how a catastrophe of that kind is handed down and around by oral tradition, till it finally becomes part of national history. The stain is thought even to affect the blood; and it is believed that there never was, and never will be, a carver among the Hasties.

But should the principles now laid down not be fortunate enough to meet the approbation of the reader, and should he, in the face of those principles, determine to become himself, and to make his son-a carver,-then we trust he will listen to us, and, as he values his reputation, learn to carve quickly. Of all the pests, curses of civilized society, your slow carver is at the head. He eyes the leg of mutton, or round of beef, or goose, or turkey, as if he had not made up his 'mind as to the name and nature of the animal. Then he suspects the knife, and shakes his head at the edge, al

though sharp as a razor. He next goes through the positions as if he were cunning of fence; when observing that he has forgotten to elevate the guard, he lays down the knife, and sets the fork to rights with an air of majesty only possible under a monarchial government. But where shall he begin? That is a momentous affair, not so readily settled as you may think; for a carver of such exquisite skill and discretion may commence operations in any one of fifty different ways and he remains bewildered among thick-coming fancies. However, let him be begun by hypothesis. He draws the knife along as leisurely as if he were dissecting the live body of his mistress, to cure some complaint of a dainty limb. It takes a minute of precious time to bring the slice (but a small one) from jigot to plate, and then he keeps fiddling among the gravy for at least a minute more, till the patience of Job, had he witnessed such dilatory cutting up, would have been totally exhausted. Neither will he let the plate go till the waiter has assured him that he understands for whom it is intended, the fortunate man's name, age, and profession, and probably the colour of his own hair or a wig. He then draws his breath, and asks for small beer. Heaven and earth, only one man has yet been muttoned! Had we held the knife, even we, who blush not to own that we are in some respects the worst carver in Europe, (credat Judæus Apella,) half-a-dozen pair of jaws would ere now have been put into full employment. Yet all the while our tardy friend chuckles over his skill in carving, and were you to hint, during the first course, that he was neither an Eclipse nor a Childers, he would regard you with a sardonic smile of ineffable contempt. True it is, however, that although in the upper circles people are careful not to express their sentiments too plainly, he is the object of curses not loud but deep; and that, however he may be respected as a man, as a carver he is damned.

Akin to the subject we have now been treating, or rather throwing out hints to be expanded by future writers of a more voluminous character, is the habit which some people avowing the Christian faith exhibit of asking for particular bits, which happen to be favourite with their palate and sto

mach. This is not merely bad manners, but most iniquitous morals. How the devil do they know that the selfsame bits are not the soul's delight of many other of their Christian brethren, then and there assembled together? How dare men who have been baptized, and go to church even when it is known that their own clergyman is to preach, expose thus the gross greed and gluttony of their unregenerated bowels? The man does not at this hour live, privileged to advance such a claim. We should not have granted it to him who invented the spade or the plough-the art of printing-gun-powder-or the steam-engine. Yet you will hear it acted upon by prigs and coxcombs, who at home dine three days a-week on tripe, and the other three on lights and liver, (men of pluck,) while their Sunday rejoices in cheese and bread, and an onion.

Mrs Meg, whom we have all along forgotten, advances, in her chapter on carving, no directions repugnant to those we have now freely advocated at least, no directions with which ours might not easily be reconciled. We agree with her, that it is the duty of every man to know which are the best bits, that he may distribute them in the proper quarters. There is much that is amiable in the following succulent passage :—

"Venison Fat-The Pope's-eye in a leg of mutton-veal and lamb kidney the firm gelatinous parts of a cod's head, -the thin part of salmon,-the thick of turbot, and other flat fish, are reckoned the prime bits;-the ribs and neck of a pig, the breast and wings of fowls, the legs of hare and rabbit, the breast and thighs of turkey and goose, cutting off the drumsticks--the wings and breast of pheasants, partridges, and moor gameand the legs and breast of duck are also reckoned delicacies. There are, besides, favourite bits, highly prized by some gourmands, though it is sometimes not easy to discover in what their superior excellence consists; as a shank of mutton, turbot fins,-cod's tongue,--the bitter back of moor game,-the back of hare,

the head of carp, &c. A knowledge of these things will be of use to the carver as a guide in that equitable distribution of good things which is the most plea sing part of his duty."

Mrs Dods then observes, "that it is well known that a person of any refinement will eat much more when VOL. XIX.

his food is carved in handsome slices, and not too much at once, than when a piece clumsily cut is put upon his plate. To cut warin joints fairly and smoothly, neither in slices too thick, nor in such as are finically thin, is all that is required of the carver of meat, whether boiled or roasted."

There is not in the whole range of English literature a sounder sentence. We always suspect a sinister motive, when we see our plate filled up with a huge, coarse, fat, outside, stringy, slobbery, gristly lump of animal matter, whilome belonging perhaps to the buttocks of a bull. It seems sent to sicken. When potatoes and greens are added, good God, your plate may be sent to the Canongate jail, by way of a Christmas dinner to the sine cessione bonorum debtors. On the other hand, confound us if we "do not hate as a pig in a gate," the opposite extreme. The opposite extreme, is one single solitary mouthful lying by itself disconsolately in the centre of the plate, obviously about as thick as a wafer, and not worth salt. It is generally mutton. It would seem, from all we have observed in the course of our experience, that it is difficult to help so minutely in beef. But out of a jigot of mutton you may take a slice that would starve a pech among the pigmies. Never condescend to begin upon such a famine. Pretend not to know that you have been helped, or treat the slice as a bit of skin that you have left from a previous plentiful supply, and return your plate to old Stingy, who, while he hates, will respect your character, and compliment your appetite indirectly, by praising your health and beauty. Be as determined as any one of the family; and continue sending back your plate till you are satisfied, should it require twenty trips. The man who leaves table hungry through bashfulness, will never make a figure in a world constituted as this is; he will infallibly become the prey of designing villains; if a literary man, he will never rise above two guineas a-sheet; at the bar, he will be browbeat even by the Man without the forehead; and were it possible to imagine him a clergyman, what a figure would he cut at dinner on the Monday of the Preachings!

For the purposes above mentioned, Mrs Dods goes on to say, "that the *40 A.