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quarrymen, masons, stone-carvers, and stone-breakers. If the material be sandstone, the injury is less severe, because the stone can be worked without much force, and the particles have no keenly cutting edges; but granite is sadly disastrous, since the sharp fragments of this stone will cut into the eye as forcibly as chips of metal; and the like may be said of particles of flint. Coke-grit is a modern but not less mischievous cause of injury; railway-guards, and passengers in open third-class pleasure-trains, are much exposed to the attacks of sharp angular particles of coke, blown out by the strong blast of the engine; these particles, whether impacted in the cornea, or driven under the eyelid, of course occasion much inflammation. Formidable injuries are inflicted on the sight of masons, bricklayers, hodmen, plasterers, and lime-burners by particles of lime, especially if the lime be in a caustic state. Miners, firework-makers, rock-blasters, quarrymen, and gunpowder-makers are, from the very nature of their several employments, exposed to imminent peril of the destruction of eyesight by explosion; and particles of powder are also likely to be driven into or against the eye. Millers, chimney-sweepers, mortarmixers, dustmen, and drug-grinders are constantly exposed to the irritating influence of small particles of dust upon the eyes. The fork-grinders of Sheffield, and, to a less degree, the needle-grinders of Redditch, are, in like manner, affected injuriously by steel-dust. In the clothing districts, many of the workers in wool, cotton, and flax are frequently liable to the intrusion of small fibrous particles under the eyelids; and the same may be said of feather-workers and fur-workers. Soda-water bottling is a perilous employment, seeing that the fragments of bottles that have burst, and corks that are forcibly driven out, are frequent sources of lamentable injury to the eyes. Engineers are sometimes placed on the sick-list, not merely by the attacks of small particles of metal on the eyes, but by the injurious influence of blasts of steam. When the finishers or gilders employed by bookbinders were accustomed to heat their embossing-irons by charcoalstoves, the eyes suffered much from the fumes; but this evil has been lessened by a partial use of gasstoves. Book-finishers and gold-beaters are not unfrequently observed to be near-sighted, an effect supposed to be caused by the yellow glare to which they are so constantly exposed.

Notwithstanding the length of this melancholy list, it is satisfactory to learn that by far the larger number of eye injuries are due to causes not necessarily attaching to particular trades, but are susceptible of improvement, if not absolute removal. These causes are numerous, as we shall presently see.

One cause is overwork. Mr White Cooper, surgeon to St Mary's Hospital, said in reply to the queries of the committee: 'Injuries bear but a small proportion to the enormous number of cases of overwork of the eyes, varying in degree from slight derangement to absolute blindness, but all interfering more or less with the due use of the organs of vision.' With the same opportunities of observation, Mr Dixon, surgeon to the London Ophthalmic Hospital, stated that a large proportion of patients who apply at that establishment, on account of what they term weakness of sight, owe the defect to mere over-use of the eyes. I mention over-use rather than any special trade,' he says, 'as the exciting cause; for every day's experience teaches us that needlework, and other occupations requiring close attention to minute objects, may be followed without injury to vision. Tailors suffer much from this over-use; they frequently make long days of work; they are sewing black materials for many hours consecutively; their constrained posture causes congestion about the eyes; and the want of fresh air in their heated workrooms renders them susceptible to "catarrhal ophthalmia" when they go into the open air. |

The same may, to a considerable extent, be said of dressmakers and needlewomen. The Royal London Ophthalmic Hospital includes always among its patients a large number of Spitalfields weavers, whose eyes become injured by long hours of work and insufficient exercise. The copying-clerks employed by lawstationers suffer much in eyesight through the long hours of night-work to which they are frequently subject during the sittings of parliament and of the law-courts. Lacemakers are found to suffer in sight, not only from the long-continued work necessary to furnish them with the means of subsistence, but also from the constrained position in which they bend over their cushions. A like observation applies to the lacerunners employed by the bobbin-net manufacturers at Nottingham. Mr White Cooper states: "The number of persons in this metropolis who suffer from overwork of the eyes is very great. On referring to my records, I find that 1320 such cases came under my notice in nine years, the large majority being tailors, shoemakers, and female workers with the needle. ... I have been repeatedly told by milliners that twelve, fourteen, or sixteen hours a day, was the ordinary duration of their labour, and this often in foul and badly ventilated apartments. Milliners and tailors are especially liable to suffer from extraordinary demands upon their powers of endurance; a large amount of work is required to be completed within a limited time; this involves the loss of sleep and close confinement in an atmosphere loaded with impurities, and heated to an exhausting extent.'

Another cause is excess of light. In large tailoring and dressmaking establishments, where many persons work in one room, much irritation of the eyesight arises from that superabundance of light which gas can be made to afford. Watchmakers and engravers are subject to premature exhaustion of the visual powers; for they are not only necessitated to throw a strong artificial light on their work during the long winter evenings, but they even concentrate the rays by magnifiers. Sailors often suffer from excess of sunlight, as do likewise harvesters and haymakers. Blacksmiths, cooks, and engineers are among those whose eyesight is troubled by excess of furnace-light. Mr France, lecturer on ophthalmic surgery at Guy's Hospital, adverts to a curious kind of superabundant light which would not have occurred to many besides oculists. 'If the Society of Arts,' he says, 'would exert its influence with the public to abolish the present custom of decorating shop-fronts with broad plates of brass, they would effect an important oculosanitary improvement: these brazen mirrors, when in summer weather the sunshine is perfectly reflected from them, are in truth a very serious evil to the vision of passers-by.'

A third cause is deficiency of light. Those tailors and sempstresses who work in large establishments, are, as has been said above, liable to irritation of the eye from excess of gaslight; but those who work at home too often suffer from deficiency of light; their windows are darkened by contiguous buildings, while a small cheap candle affords insufficient light in the evening. There appears to be a custom among dressmakers of making up their white and coloured materials during the day, and reserving black work for the evening, on the ground that white or delicate fabrics are apt to become soiled by the smoke of artificial light. The reason assigned may or may not be a sound one; but the practical effect is that of fatiguing the eye by evening-work upon a substance which, by the very circumstance of its being black, reflects little light to the eye. Nothing can tell more conclusively on this point than a few words used by Mr White Cooper: I have invariably found that a general_mourning increased the number of applicants for relief at the ophthalmic institutions to which I am attached’—

owing to the blank, dreary, wearing and wearying obscurity of the light from black work. Fine work has some such effect as dark work upon the sight; for the eye aches in the endeavour to appreciate each minute spot on the work to be done. Engravers frequently suffer from this cause. The closers,' statchers,' and 'stabbers' of boots and shoes are in like manner troubled in eyesight by the closeness of the stitches to be made.

A fourth cause is badly applied light. The light by which a worker pursues his avocations may be neither too great nor too small in actual amount; yet there may be a want of tact in its adjustment sufficient to irritate and injure the eye. Wherever a draught of air gives a flickering motion to a flame, the eye becomes thereby irritated and inflamed; and in some printing-offices where the compositors are employed during long night-hours, this evil is said to be much felt. The colour of the light is often a subject of injury. Mr Cousins, one of those from whom the committee sought information, said: 'Needle women, embroiderers, and lacemakers should work in rooms hung with green, and having green blinds and curtains to the windows. When in North China, I became convinced of the very great advantage with which this rule has been adopted by the exquisite embroiderers of that part. Their books of patterns are frequently called Books of the Lady of the Green Window.' He further remarks: Needlewomen would find great advantage in changing the colour of their work as frequently as possible; the rationale of this is found in the law, that variation of stimulus is necessary to preserve the tone and health of any organ of sense, and that prolonged application of the same stimulus exhausts it.' The ill effect experienced through remaining many hours in a room lighted by several jets of gas, is probably due quite as largely to the exhalation of the gas as to the brightness of the light. Much unnecessary suffering, too, is borne by persons who work with a light at too low a level; in full many a case, ease would be found to result from an adjustment of the light at a higher level, such as to allow, as in nature, the brow and lashes to shelter the pupil and iris, and to prevent the impact of direct rays upon the optic nerve.

There are multitudes of minor causes of injury to sight, arising, in great part, from the recklessness of workmen while engaged at their employments. Mr Devlin, a bootmaker, who has written much and excellently both on the social and on the technical characteristics of his trade, drew the attention of the committee to the fact, that shoe and boot makers often ruin their sight by smoking short pipes while bending over their work. The bowl of the pipe, hour after hour, is sending out its fumes within a few inches of the down-turned eyes. A shoemaker,' he narrates, a voracious smoker, having been compelled to apply, through the failure of his sight, to the celebrated oculist, Dr (Mr?) Alexander, this gentleman, immediately he held the head of the wretched sufferer before his observation, exclaimed: "Why, you have brought this all upon yourself! You are your own eye-destroyer! That short pipe which you stick in your lips is doing it all! Throw that bad and filthy thing aside. There can be no remedy for you until you drop this vile propensity. Why, man, you are burning your very eyeballs out of their sockets!" So he told him, and then and afterwards he did what he could for his patient; but all unavailingly as regarded a complete restoration of sight; and now, in his visual benightedness, he is compelled to sell matches in the streets of London.'

Now, in collecting all this sad calamity of eye misfortunes, the Society of Arts, of course, had something more in view than to excite commiseration. The primary objects have been, to ascertain the value of all existing

means of prevention, and to suggest others for future adoption. These means must necessarily depend on the nature of the employment. All artisans who are exposed to eye injury from chips, splinters, dust, grit, or fluff, would do well to look about them for eye-protectors. 'Goggles,' or spectacles of wire-gauze, might often be used with advantage by such persons; and, indeed, stone-breakers in Germany are said to use such. The grinders at Messrs Rodgers' cutlery-works at Sheffield wear, many of them, very large spectacles of plain flint-glass. Dr Gibb expressed to the committee the following opinion on the great 'beard' question: I am quite certain that many, in fact a large number of artisans, who are exposed to the influence of dust, grit, chips, splinters, &c., from the nature of their occupation, suffer more in proportion to the absence of beards and whiskers, than those who possess those appendages. This is a fact which is becoming established every day. I have followed this observation out to some extent in practice, in the treatment of diseased eyes from dust, &c., with shaven faces, where there appeared, at the same time, to be a weakness in the organ of vision from the latter cause. On the growth of the beard, when the affection of the eyes was cured, the weakness disappeared, and many whose eyes were before diseased through the nature of their occupations, after obtaining beard and whiskers, were to a great extent exempt from a return of their eye affections. This may be attributable to two causes: the first, the protection afforded to the face by the hair, the strengthening and tonic influence imparted in consequence to the nerves of the face and eyes, and the general improvement of the health from the comfort experienced in wearing the beard; the second, the arrest of the particles of dust and grit by the hair of the beard and whiskers, thereby relieving the eyes. Without at all going into the question as to the propriety of wearing the beard and whiskers, I mention these facts as likely to prove useful, in reply to some of the questions in the special memorandum; but I will observe, in conclusion, that there is a great deal of sympathy between the beard and the eyes, and an abundance of evidence could be brought forward to prove it.'

Many workmen are exposed to the sudden entrance of small particles between the eyeball and the upper lid: a careful laving or bathing of the eye seems the best cure here; and Mr White Cooper has devised an ingenious little contrivance for this purpose, to be fitted up in workshops. In the numerous cases where the light which falls upon the workman's eye or upon his work is either too great or badly arranged, many preventives have been partially adopted, and others suggested-such as due caution against overworking the eye at one time; frequent changes, if possible, in the size and colour of the substances worked upon; avoidance of black work, if practicable, by artificial light; the employment of slightly tinted blue glassshades, or judiciously arranged paper-shades, in front of gas-jets; a substitution of daylight for nightlight in all employments, so far as the usages of modern society and the necessities of the workers will permit; the avoidance of red or warm colours, and the substitution of green or blue, in avocations wherein the eyesight is much employed; the use of a reflector over a gaslight, to throw down the illumination on the work, and shield it from the eyes of the workman, &c. Mr White Cooper, when speaking of eye-shades, observes: "The ordinary shades have had the objection of heating the forehead and eyes, by not allowing the escape of vapour from them. An optician has, at my suggestion, made a shade working on hinges, which does away with the objection by allowing of ventilation; and it can also be adjusted at any angle most convenient to the wearer.'

As to injuries to the eyesight resulting from excessive

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smoking, snuff-taking, drinking, or excesses in any habit whatever, nothing need be urged concerning the best mode of prevention-to name the indulgence is, at the same time, to name the direction in which reform is to be sought.

This sheet will fall into the hands of many whose daily employments call for much exercise of eyesight; and if it should induce them to attend to the various modes in which the eyes may suffer, or to adopt any suggested preventives, or to suggest preventives for the use of others, the purpose for which this article is written will have been well attained.

PRIZE OR NO PRIZE.

I WAS at the Cape, on sick leave. When I sailed
from India, I was as languid and yellow-visaged as
the most listless nabob that ever supplied material
A smart bout of jungle-fever
for farce or novel.
makes one see the world and all its advantages
through a diminishing lens; and when I crawled
from the Masoolah boat up the side-ladder of the
good ship Mary Jane, I should not have been in the
least excited by the news of my appointment to the
office of governor-general. But a few months at the
Cape, where the dry air and pure skies absolutely
seem to impart vitality to an enfeebled frame, made a
wonderful difference in me, both mentally and cor-
poreally. As my strength and appetite returned, so
did my interest in sublunary matters; and now that
I was a convalescent, I became a victim to boredom.
There are few places in which one may enjoy more
hearty, honest, solid dulness than at the Cape of
Good Hope. No doubt, an English market-town, a
cathedral city, a decayed watering-place, are tolerably
lifeless, especially in hot summer weather, when
dozing dogs have the sunny pavement to themselves,
and the blue-bottles that haunt the butcher's shop
seem to monopolise all the activity of the place. But
Cape Town!-Cape Town on a regular baking-day,
before the breeze springs up, may challenge the
world to compete with it on the score of monotony.

I was not located in the town itself, but at
Simonswald, a little place among the hills, perched at
a respectable height above the sea, and whose board-
ing-houses were full of the recovering, the sick, and
the dying, who owed their shattered health to the
vampire climate of India. There was no diversion at
Simonswald, however, except three: you might stroll
up to Constantia Farm, and see the world-famous vine-
yards, read the newspapers over and over again, or
play cards. Now, a newspaper is apt to grow tedious
by the time of its fourth perusal; and vineyards have
a sameness about them; and of card-playing and its
effects, I had seen rather more than enough in the
hill-stations in India. By the by, I have known men
who had withstood all temptation to become gamblers
while on service, gradually imbibe a morbid love of
high play at the Cape, from pure dearth of employ-
ment, and ruin themselves for life to save a yawn.
Well, to escape the dulness of Simonswald, I ordered
my hack every day at the same hour, and rode to
Not that
plunge into the dulness of Cape Town.
Cape Town is so utterly uninteresting to a stranger;
for a short time-say a week-one might be agree-
ably enough employed in looking about one.

The Cape has its lions, figuratively, at least, on the hither side of the Orange River. There are the Cape pigeons, bolder than any pigeons Europe can produce; albatrosses and cormorants, and other great white or gray birds, perpetually screaming and soaring over the waves that sparkle with gamboling fish. There are the plump Cape belles; the Cape sheep with their astounding tails, which, somehow, never seem real honest appendages, but have all the air of artificial adornments. There are the boors, an overgrown race,

beside whom most of the visitors to the colony look
contemptible pigmies, an opinion you may generally
And there are the Hottentots, of whose
read pretty legibly on the broad face of the Africander
himself.
vicinity, if they should happen to be to windward,
you cannot long remain unconscious; and the wonder-
ful wagons from the interior; and the Cape burghers,
and the Cape sharks, and the vats of Cape wine,
and the miserable booths where Cape brandy inspires
a company of negroes to dance to the music of a gourd
fiddle; and more cattle, more hides, more clay-pipes,
and more queer costumes than would give a travelling
But still, in a
artist materials for fifty sketches.
month or two, a man is sure to grow weary of the
Cape of Good Hope, and think the best hope he could
cherish would be to get well away from it.

One day, as I was yawning about on the pier, looking up now and then at Table Mountain, to see if the cloth was spread, and any elemental frolic probable, a salute was suddenly banged out by the Flagstaff Battery. As quickly as was natural to a man who, for the last day or two, had had no pleasanter problem to busy his mind than an attempt to solve the question, why Cape horses cannot trot, but must gallop or canter, I spun round, and asked for information.

'A king's ship, sir, with a prize in tow-a slaver, belike,' said a seafaring man, the mate of some merchantman, and very civilly handed me his glass, through which I could make out a frigate 'clawing' into the bay, in company with a large suspiciouslooking black brig. Meanwhile, signals were being rapidly exchanged between the frigate and the shore; and soon the rumour spread that the new-comer was the Lynx, 36, Captain Horne. Lynx, Captain Horne! here was a chance for me, for Horne was an old friend, a sort of Welsh cousin of mine, and I had even been a cruise in the Lynx. Here was a remedy for the Cape blue-devils, for a few days anyhow. I should dine with Horne, and Horne would dine with me, and then I should join the gun-room mess, and hear some yarns not absolutely threadbare. But here is the gig pulling fast for the pier-head, and in the stern-sheets sits the weather-beaten naval commander, Captain Horne, full fig, on his way to the governor's. To my surprise, he seemed in wretched spirits, and winced when I congratulated him on his success in the anti-slavery line.

When he came out of government-house-the 'residence,' as the natives call it-Horne, who had agreed to dine with me, passed his arm through mine. I asked him what made him wear such a hang-dog look, being lucky enough to have caught a slaver.

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Caught a slaver!' he exclaimed-'caught a Tartar would be nearer the mark, I am afraid. I wish she had been under fifty fathoms of blue water before ever I heard of her.'

A little pressing, and I heard the whole story.

'I was hovering about the South American coast,' said Horne, 'keeping a bright look-out for any stray Brazilian that might be fitting for a trip to the slavecoast; but not one could I find. Either the craft were invisible, or the negro-trade was a myth, one would have thought. At last-you know I always paid highly for good information, and picked up more prizes in that way than could otherwise have been gained-at last, I was informed that a brig was fitting out in Buenos Ayres harbour, and would sail shortly. She was under Brazilian colours, but the skipper was a Yankee, and a 'cute one. He had been obliged to take on board a suspicious quantity of water-casks, salt provisions, and so forth, but he had hidden the shackles-Old Nick alone can tell where; and on the slave-deck he had placed six horses, in pens, as a pretext for his voyage. Ship's papers, manifest, invoice, were all beautifully regular. He was an

honest trader, don't you see? carrying on a traffic in horses, though I shall be able to prove that for the six hide-bound old screws he took out, he must have paid more in Buenos Ayres than he could possibly sell them for on the African coast. Besides these nags, the Yankee had a cargo of hardware, guns, nails, tools, metal rods-the proper things to barter with the natives—and he was to bring back produce, so he says.

'Well, he sailed. I kept a bright look-out, and never lost sight of his topmasts during the voyage.

'His course was evidently towards the Bight of Benin; but when he got within eighty miles of the Guinea Coast, the old fox doubled, and ran down in the night towards Cameroons. The brig sails fast, as slavers always do; but the Lynx is the tightest, trimmest little boat on a wind, in the whole'

"There, there, Horne; I know all that.'

'Well,' resumed Horne, 'I was coming up with him, hand over hand, so round he went; and running round some sandy keys, made for the Calabar River. I gave chase, and he then steered for the Bonny. This would never do; a squall, a fog, even a dark night, and he would escape me, and carry his cargo of ebony safe to America. So I ran down, fired a gun and sent a boat to fetch the skipper. He met me with a provoking grin, and said, as he squirted tobaccojuice over my clean white decks: "Well, cap'en, you've got me, and I hope you like me. You've captured me, I guess; but to get the brig condemned is another and a 'nation different story." And so it is, Ned, and I'm afraid I've only burned my fingers by my precious caption. The mixed court won't condemn her on bare suspicion. The crew are as close as wax, and the Yankees keep watch on the Spanish sailors, so no one can split if he wanted to.'

'And if you don't get her condemned, Horne?' said I. 'If I don't, I'm a ruined man, that's all,' he returned with a quiver in his lip very unusual to him. I'm a poor man, as you know; and if my prospects are blighted, what is to become of my wife and my poor boys? It was for their sake I was so anxious for more prize-money, and I thought this ship would have paid for James's three years at Cambridge, and left a handsome nest-egg in the bank too. But if the brig's declared an honest trader, I must pay compensation for seizing her, and detaining her illegally, and dockyard-men, labourers for the search, fees, wages, and what not, until I'm a beggar. Worse, too; I shall be in the "black books" of the Admiralty, and perhaps never get another ship, and then' And the honest fellow stopped, for his heart was too full to allow him to say more. Day after day the slaver lay in Table Bay, and nothing came to light. No seaman peached-no shackles were found. The Yankee skipper grinned triumphantly when he met us on the pier. You would have thought him the captor, and poor dejected Horne the prisoner, to have seen them both.

The mixed court could not come to a decision. There were the water-casks, the salt pork, and so on, but no shackle-bolts and leg-irons. Why don't you search the hold?' said I daily to poor Horne.

'I dare not,' was the answer; for there is a heavy cargo; and what with the wages of dockyard-men, and compensation to the owners for breaking bulk, the search would cost me a hundred pounds.'

saying a word to Horne, I slipped out of court, ran to the pier, and was pulled on board the brig. I soon secured an ally in the midshipman who commanded the prize-crew, and we made a most irregular onslaught on the contents of the brig's hold. Strange to say, we found the shackles! they had been wrapped in tow, and headed up in casks apparently full of saltmeat; so that, but for an accident, we might have searched till doomsday in vain. But the discovery was useless after all; for when I returned in triumph, I found Horne radiant with joy, and the Yankee crestfallen and utterly subdued. Unable to agree, the Brazilian and English judges had agreed to toss up, heads or tails of a dollar, for condemned or acquitted. Heads came up, and thus, most justly, though by sheer accident, the vessel was condemned.

COOKERY AND COOKS. WE have long been of opinion that not only your poet and your gardener must be 'to the manner born'-overshadowed from the cradle by the flowers of Parnassus or the green-house-but that those very important house-genii, cooks, are likewise so by right of birth-gift. To be really a cook, as to be really a poet, one must possess qualities accorded to but few. Quick sense of aromatic odours, equal delicacy of taste in its primary sense, fertility of invention and expedient, powers of combination, must belong to the cook in no ordinary degree. The badness of mere professors of this important art, the skill with which they spoil the good gifts of Providence, are no more arguments against this theory than the detestable infliction of sham poetry is against the heaven-born genius of the poet; nay, it is rather an argument in its favour, the rareness of the gift proving its excellence.

The truth is practically acknowledged by the remuneration of the gift when possessed. One of the late Sybarites of the regent's days gave, we know from certain authority, L.400 a year to her cook; and L.100 a year are the ordinary wages of one who would probably designate himself as an artiste.

And like other followers of art, your true cook has an idiosyncrasy of his own: a self-consciousness, a jealousy of non-appreciation, a delight in discovering new combinations of old materials-what else is left to either cook or poet?-and an exultation in casting a glamour over the senses of his duller neighbours by the witchery of his art-an art, too, let us whisper, of much greater importance than we coarse Anglo-Saxons have comprehended till lately, when a great cook became one of the supporters of an army, and made manifest the fact that, as man is an eating animal, he may not with impunity disre gard one of the laws of his being.

In ancient times, when man had not learned the evils of indigestion-judging by his length of days and the paucity of physicians-cooking was held in high honour, and practised by noble and princely persons. It is the hands of the queenly Saralı that prepare flesh of the calf and baked cakes for the food of angels. Rebecca's delicate cookery deceived even the practised taste of Isaac, and was the instrument misemployed to bring a prophetic blessing on a peculiar people.

I offered him all the assistance in my power, but Turn from these great mothers of the ancient race he was a proud man, and declined it. So the cause to the Greeks of Homer's days, and you will find went on, and the naval officer, poor man, was on his kings cooking in honour of their gods; and roast-pork trial as well as the rascally slaver. Many a captain greeting the return of Ulysses. Both the kingly and has let a negro-trader escape rather than face such a the swineherd cook develop the idiosyncrasy of which risk. The day of the final trial came, and the Yankee we speak. Important events are celebrated by their skipper was in court, and snapped his fingers at us. art. The sacrifice must be followed by the feast; He did not take the trouble to sham innocence, the royal exile's return, in like manner, by an confident he could not be proved guilty. Without impromptu slaughter and frying of swine, just as the

poet by a certain instinct celebrates a solemnity or a victory by a lay.

The Spartan cooks, too, even when their art was curbed and checked by the puritanical laws of their country, and their skill was doomed to evaporate in the steam of black broth, were as jealous of their honour as the most tenacious of modern artistes. One has gone down to all ages as reproving a monarch with equal boldness and wit, whilst resenting an insult to his own skill.

The king murmurs over the legal repast of his country' the broth was naught.'

'It lacks its seasoning,' was the reply. 'What is that?'

'Labour and exercise, O king.'

repair the loss of Vatel, and it was repaired. The court dined well; they had a collation-a supper; they walked-played. Everything was perfumed by jonquils: everybody was enchanted.'

One shudders as one reads. Was there no memory of the unfortunate man who had perished in that sweet perfume? No trace of the recent horror amidst that selfish throng? No marvel if the next time we meet with a royal French cook, it is in the prison of the Temple. The glittering, heartless throng have vanished. The sceptre is in the dust. Le Roi'— that golden idol-is no longer amid the jonquils of Chantilly, but a captive to his own people; and Turgy, his old cook, faithful amidst so many false, serves, aids, helps the fallen monarch in his hour of need.

The cooks of old Rome-we mean of the empirewere obliged to supply by their skill the deficiency The same nervous temperament which led to of this seasoning. We wonder how many slaves Vatel's fearful fate, produced in England another cooked for Lucullus-how they managed their tragedy, in which a cook was the principal actor. delicate dishes of peacocks' tongues and brains. Some supposed insult offered to his skill, drew the How pleased the fraternity of cooks must have been vengeance of this man on the family he served; and at every new creature, meet for food,' which the they were all poisoned by him. We do not wish to luxurious conquerors of the world brought back from dwell upon such a tale; but as its punishment was every vanquished land!-how they must have wel- the last act of one of our old terrible laws, we could comed the delicious oyster of Britain, the cherries scarcely leave it out in our chat about cooks. In for their first tart, brought home from Greece by those days, the law condemned 'cooks who were Lucullus himself! The days of the Roman Empire guilty of poisoning to be boiled alive!' and this must have been a palmy time for cooks. In far-off hideous doom was fulfilled in this case.' The cook Egypt, where Antony's capricious appetite taxed the was boiled in a large kettle in Smithfield Market! patience and skill of his chef de cuisine, twelve cooks | Probably the opportunities of destruction possessed constantly prepared the meal that was ever to be by cooks, suggested fears and suspicions which gave ready, and might be called for at all hours; and rise to this frightful law, and not any frequency twelve wild-boars, in different stages of roasting, of the crime in the persons for whom it was framed. astonished the stranger's eyes. But we are digressing This opinion is confirmed by the fact that the from the chief purport of our article. instance we have cited was the first and last time of the frightful punishment being carried into effect.

One of the saddest, and yet most apt, illustrations of the jealous sensitiveness of cooks, is that recorded by Madame de Sevigné of the celebrated Vatel, servant to Louis Quatorze. The king was at Chantilly for the day, with all his brilliant court. They walked in those pleasant gardens, and on a spot carpeted with jonquils a collation was served. Roast-meat failed at some of the many tables, for a far greater number of guests had arrived than had been announced in the preparatory orders. Vatel felt the want-the defect in his perfect feast, as his sensitive tribe ever do. He said several times: 'Je suis perdu d'honneur; voici un affront que je ne supporterai pas.' He added to M. Gourville these touching words, explanatory of the catastrophe which followed: 'My head turns; for twelve nights I have not slept; help me to give orders.' Gourville helped him to the best of his power, and communicated his distress to the prince, who went to his room, and assured him that all was well; that nothing could be better than the king's supper. He replied: Monseigneur, votre bonté m'achève; je sais que le rôti a manqué à deux tables.' We shall quote the remainder of the sad tale from Madame de Sevigné herself: 'At four o'clock in the morning, Vatel walks round the place; he finds everybody asleep; he meets a little purveyor, who brings him only two baskets of salt-water fish. He asks him: "Is that all?" "Yes, sir." The boy did not know that Vatel had sent to all the seaports for more. Vatel waits some time; the other purveyors do not arrive. His head grows confused and troubled; he believed there would be no more salt-water fish. He found Gourville, and said to him: "Monsieur, I shall not survive this disgrace." Gourville laughed at him. Vatel ascends to his chamber, puts his sword against the door, and passes it through his heart; but it was only at the third blow-for he gave himself two wounds, which were not mortal-that he fell dead.'

Too late, too late came the fish. The grief of the courtiers was great at first, but 'Gourville tried to

But we will turn to a pleasanter phase of character that is, the skill and art of combination, and even transformation, belonging to this peculiar idiosyncrasy. We suppose almost all our readers know the story of the bet made by the French gourmands, one of whom asserted that he could detect the component parts of any dish put before him; the other, betting at great odds that he would not be able to tell the materials wherewith his cook would prepare a savoury dish' for them. The bet was taken; the one confident in his quick natural sense; the other in the skill of his cook. The matter was of importance beyond a mere gambling transaction, because the fallen fortunes of a noble family would be raised by the timely pecuniary help. The cook-a Frenchman of course-exerted all his talents, and surpassed all praise. The dish was placed before the knowing epicure. He tastes, smacks his lips, tastes again, smells it-your epicures don't stand on elegance of manner in such a case!-tastes again. Alas! it is redolent of all rich odours; such sauces, so marvellously blended; such gravy, such solids-so soft, tender! What can it be? A wondrously prepared tripe? No! Calves' head in a new shape? No, no, no!-a thousand 'Nos.' Our epicure gives it up. 'It is old white kid gloves!' is the cool explanation, when the bet is resigned up as lost. We remember reading in our childhood, in an old, old history of the Netherlands, of similar skill proving of inestimable value to some Black Walloons, who were besieged and famine-stricken somewhere-our memory cannot recall the name. The cook of the garrison, being a true cook, and therefore possessing the idiosyncrasy of his tribe, made most appetising salads of grass; dressed stinging nettles like spinach with eggs, whilst he had any; made admirable ragouts of rats, and mice, and lapdogs; a splendid second course of dried onions, and finally disguised

Vide Blackstone's Commentaries.

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