trimming, grated lemon peel, with Spanish lace fichu. Stir well."

Her mother said she thought these new-fangled ideas on cooking ought to be frowned down.

"No, indeed, I'm not going to learn how to make bread," said an Eastern belle, "girls who know how to make bread generally marry men who can not afford to buy flour to make it with, and they have to work in a millinery shop to help pay the board bill. I'll stick to my fancy work."

It is related of the Hon. Philetus Sawyer, a Wisconsin senator, that he was so well pleased with a dinner prepared entirely for him by his two daughters, that he gave to each of them a check for twenty-five thousand dollars, a present quite within his gift, as he is a millionaire.

The thrifty, economical German fathers have a quaint and pretty way of interesting their young daughters in bread-making, and, at the same time, reward them for their industry. They conceal numerous small silver coin in the flour, and the girl finds these in kneading the bread.

There should be a cooking catechism published, with such questions as these:

Can you make a clear gravy?
Can you make good soups?

Can you broil a beefsteak ?

In how many different ways can you cook potatoes!

Do you know how to roast meats properly?

Can you make puddings?

Can you make sauces?

Miss Julia Nast, the daughter of the well-known artist, Thomas Nast, has for some years presided over a young girl's cooking association, at her home in Morristown, New Jersey, where, as head cook, she displays true artistic talent, and offers an example worthy of emulation.

COOK INSTEAD OF CLERK.

A three line notice of the death of a lady, in the city papers, recently, is all the world will know of one whose life was crowded with strange vicissitudes.

Her family name was one of rare distinction in the record of the revolution. Her husband was a naval officer of merit, and she had been a society queen in the past administration. In the rebellion everything was swept from her family-husband, home, and money-as those of her kindred had chosen their part with the South. At the close of the war, friendless and penniless, so far as friends could help her-for they were all stranded together-she was not sufficiently educated to teach. She had no accomplishments, such as a knowledge of music or languages. She had always been fond of housekeeping, and possessed a practical knowledge of cooking in its higher branches. She found here a lady, unmarried, who had known her when fortune smiled, and there she served for sixteen years; this delicately nurtured lady performed the duties of cook. She hired a colored woman to do the washing and ironing, and other laborious duties, but cook she remained to the end.

The remarkable part of all this is, that had her history been known, and her grandfather's services to the country told, she would have been appointed to some position

under the government; but she preferred to remain in
the quiet and seclusion of her friend's kitchen. This
woman, who had great claim upon the country for the
deeds done by her ancestors, never paraded them, never
hung about the Capitol or hunted down members. She
never traded upon the renown of her grandfather,
although his was one to be proud of. She went about
her simple duties thankful that she could eat bread of
her own earning, far from the madding crowd who hunt
for and hold office. This brave, patient woman deserves
a monument on which should be engraved :
"Here
rests one who chose rather to be a cook than a clerk."

CHAPTER XXV.

The new. Cook.

We may live without poetry, music and art,

We may live without conscience and live without heart,
We may live without friends, we may live without books,
But civilized man can not live without cooks.

HERE is one thing you mustn't forget, Tom!"

"What's that, Emma?"

"Don't forget to go to the registry office and send me a cook. The new girl is good for nothing, and the old one can't do everything. Young or old, man or woman, I don't care, only send me up a competent cook by ten o'clock this morning."

"Don't look so desperate, Sis; I'll remember it. I want things in pretty good style for Maxwell; he is used to it-is fond. of good dinners; and I guess I'll send you a good, smart man cook, Emma."

Mr.

Thomas Maye disappeared with a re-assuring nod. He had a proverbially bad memory; pretty Emma Maye knew it very well, yet in this desperate emergency she trusted him.

During the two years she had had charge of her widowed brother's family they had been blessed by the most skillful of cooks; but Joan had taken a fancy to get married, and her place was hastily supplied by one who soon proved incapable.

Just at this juncture Mr. Maye received tidings that his dead wife's favorite brother, Arthur Maxwell, just returned from abroad, would pay him a visit. From the first Emma had been nervous over the responsibility of entertaining this elegant young man, whom she had never seen. She was lovely and accomplished; but she could not cook-in fact, she had never tried.

It was half past seven o'clock when Mr. Maye went to town. He took nothing but a cup of coffee at seven o'clock, and lunched at his favorite restaurant at eleven o'clock. At half-past three o'clock the Mayes dined, and Mr. Maxwell was expected by the ten minutes past three o'clock train.

"There!" sighed Emma, when, two hours after her brother's departure, the house was in its usual exquisite order, and the viands and flowers sent up for dinner; "if Tom doesn't forget, and if he sends up a good cook, everything will be nice enough."

She did not dare think of the possibility of Tom's having forgotten, or that of the cook not coming for any other reason; but when, precisely at ten o'clock, the door-bell rang, a secret weight was lifted from her heart. She ran herself to answer the summons. A mediumsized, well-dressed, modest-looking young man stood at the entrance, and she brightened at sight of him.

"I am very glad you are so punctual; I was afraid I