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The English tun is 2240 pounds; which, at seven shillings per tun, amounts to £7,962,500.*

App. xiii.

The English coal is nearly all bituminous; but there is some of the anthracite got in South Wales, which ought to compose the fires in all the domestic establishments in London.

About twenty years past the anthracite coal was used in Wales in the manufacturing of iron.

Professor Buckland, and other geologists, have calculated that the northern districts will become exhausted in 400 years.

The following extract from the "Miner's Journal " gives some idea of the consumption of coal in this Union for the last year: "Foreign, 103,247. Virginia, 68,750. Anthracite, 1,108,001 tuns."

EATING AND ENTERTAINMENTS.

"When art and nature join, the effect will be

Some nice ragout or charming fricassee." GARTH.

I SHOULD Suppose the Sybarites were the most luxurious people of any in the world, before they were destroyed by Pythagoras, 508 years before Christ: they supplied all nations with cooks, confectioners, embroiderers, and riding-masters. The Romans also understood it, had splendid feasts, and enjoyed them. The French, for the last few centuries, have borne the bell. The English seem to have adopted one of their notions, which is, to eat their meat with its own gravy. The Italian cookery was mostly with oil: this, perhaps, may be accounted for from their meat being lean; whereas, the climate of England being humid, and herbage plentiful, its own fat and luscious gravy would seem sufficient.

But there is one circumstance which I cannot help noticing, which, though it may not appear at first sight to have much to do with cooking, yet it has a great deal to do with the dining-hall and the kitchen.

You must know, gentle reader, that every large establishment in former times had a fool-a fool par excellence. There was a court fool; even the corporation of the city of London had its household fool: in fact, a large house without a fool was

Like a ring without a finger,
Or like a bell without a ringer."

* Mechanic's Magazine.

Indeed they were not peculiar to England; other countries had them, as though folly was not rife enough there. The English fool was often seen joining his capital of capers in company with that of a monkey, who, after their hurly-burlying, perched upon the fool's shoulders as a resting-place; and a pretty plump spot it was, for the fools were all great fat fellows. Marston says:

"I never saw a fool lean; the chub-faced fop

Shines sleek with full-crammed fat of happiness."

And he might have added, with kitchen fat too.

In the common household slang of the times, the household fools all over Europe were always called after the most approved national dish. Thus, in England the children called him a jack-pudding; in Holland he was called a pickled herring; in France, jaen-pottage; in Germany, hans-wurst, or jack-sausage; giving a curious instance of the association of ideas, or, in plain language, "talking as our bellies guide us."

"Do chattering monkeys mimic men?

Or we, turn'd apes, out monkey them?"

Foolish as this may appear to us, it had a great and good effect: it promoted laughter; and "laughter," says Professor Hufeland, "is one of the greatest helps to digestion; and the custom so prevalent among our forefathers, of exciting it at table by jesters and buffoons, was founded on true medical principles. In a word, endeavour to have cheerful and merry companions at your meals."*

The English have never cordially adopted French cookery, and I think very properly. Reader, do not start! I am aware I must tread as softly here as though I were upon holy ground. I know it is the height of all heresies to doubt the French nation not being the very pink of all philosophers in the culinary art: but is it so? Let me, before I am brought to the spit, just explain myself. Although, in what I am going to say, if I am to be grilled, or stewed, or bedevilled for it, I shall express myself in the bold language of Byron: "If every syllable is a rattlesnake, and every letter a pestilence, they shall not be expunged." This may be obstinacy in me, but perhaps obstinacy in a right cause may be a virtue. May not the use of spices and savoury herbs be carried to excess? may they not, like sweets, begin to loathe? "whereof a little more than a little, is by much too much." I have occasionally partaken of French cookery, and have never relished a meal: I have

* "Art of Prolonging Human Life."

always found that the flavour of the principle article has been lost by the confounding of the flavours of the sauces; whereas they should, according to my notion of things, do no more than heighten it.

Having thus spoken my mind upon cookery as it regards flavour, and in which I may have brought myself in contact with the gourmand, I feel myself emboldened also to speak on another part of the subject, which may perhaps bring me under the scarrifying scalpel of the doctor: however, at all risksand I speak here advisedly and experimentally, from some years experience I deny in toto that the sort of food has anything to do with health. From having been for half a century a valetudinarian, I have tried great varieties of food,animal, vegetable, and pastry; but I have never found that the sort (or the cooking, if only plainly roast or boiled) has had anything to do with mitigating illness or restoring health. But quantity has; and that quantity, be it more or less, has universally agreed with me best which is the most solid. I therefore entirely disregard all that is said about "light food."

There seems to have grown up a distaste in eating fat meat, yet a greater quantity of butter is consumed. There is no arguing this question as a matter of taste; but as a matter of economy, there may be two important questions worthy every householder's consideration, both of which appeal very powerfully to the pocket. In the first place, those who buy meat must buy bone; and it must appear self-evident that the greater proportion of fat and lean there is on the bone, the better it is for the purchaser: it does not follow that those who dislike fat are obliged to eat it; a good cook will know (or ought to) how to use it in pastry. Then, secondly, fat meat

mean the lean of it-is better flavoured, more nutritious, much more tender, and far more easily digested. Animals, in the progress of feeding, arrive at a certain stage of ripeness; and when at that state, the juices of the meat are in greater perfection. If the animal is not well fatted, the meat will be hard and tough, and in the process of cooking will shrink in bulk; so that the purchaser of lean meat loses in all manner of ways. Still, if he prefers skin and bone, he may purchase it; experience has long taught me the contrary is by far the best. Besides, the fat will make into soap or candles, or burn in lamps.

From Dr. Holland's "Medical Notes and Reflections," 1839, it appears" that the saccharine, the oleaginous, and the albuminous parts of our food afford nourishment.” He quotes Celsus, who says "that intemperance in eating is generally more noxious than excess in drinking.”

Dr. Baglivi, a Roman physician, mentions that "in Italy an unusually large proportion of the sick recover during lent in consequence of the lower diet, which is then observed as a religious duty."

St. Basil says, on fasting: "It cures diseases, dries up the humours of the body, puts the demons to flight, renders the mind clearer, the heart purer, and the body holier; in short, it raises the man to the throne of God."

Dr. Holland states that "the stomach requires the stimulous of variety, but not a variety of stimulants," and gives a curious and entertaining table compiled by a Dr. Beaumont, of the United States Army, from his work entitled "Experiments on the Gastric Juice," printed at Boston in 1814, a work worthy every valetudinarian's perusal.

Trusting that what I have written may not be considered impertinent, I will now proceed more particularly to the matter of the chapter.

The coronation dinner of King Henry V., (1413,) which happened during lent, was entirely of fish.

Notwithstanding the reformation had taken place, Queen Elizabeth issued a proclamation in 1563, ordering fish days to be as rigidly observed as during the time of the old religion. It was considered wise in a national point of view, and was fully observed for perhaps half the century. Fish is ordered to be eaten in Leviticus 11: 9, and in Deuteronomy 14: 9.

This order was very politic, tending indirectly to add to the quantity of human food; for every spring myriads of fish come up the rivers, bays, and creeks to spawn, and may be thus easily taken. And, while a population are thus fed, the young calves and lambs, which come at the same period, are permitted to thrive and grow toward maturity. Hence the wisdom of the divine legislature.

In the middle ages our sturdy ancestors ate baked meat, which will account for their enormous ovens. A description of the one at Raby Castle, now turned into a wine-cellar, will now, from this circumstance, be better understood.

King John issued an order to Hugh Neville, dated April 19th, 1206, regulating kitchens. Among other regulations, there was one setting forth that they were to be provided with the means, and the fire-places were to be sufficient, to roast two or three oxen whole. To do this, the kitchens were on a grand scale. The abbot's old kitchen, (octagon shape,) at Glastonbury, is now in a fine state of preservation, but occupied as a farmer's barn. There is one at Stanton Harcourt 29 feet square, * Fosbroke says: "There were bellows-blowers in the royal kitchens, to see that the soup was neither burnt nor smoked."

and 60 feet high to the top of roof: there were two fire-places, but no chimney; the smoke makes its exit through a louvre, creeping up the dingy and dusty walls. The large kitchen at Haddon Hall had two vast fire-places, with irons for several tiers of spits, various store places, a great double range of dressers, and an enormous chopping-block, sawn out of the solid butt of an ash tree; adjoining to this kitchen were several larders. At Cowdray House, among other luxuries, was a small fountain in the middle, spouting forth cold water to moderate the temperature.

From Aubrey's (born 1625) MSS.: "Roasting Jacks had not been introduced, so 'the poor boys did turn the spits and licked the dripping-pans, and grew to be large, lusty knaves.""

Such being the furniture of this part of the dwelling, let us now take a view of what they produced.

THE KING'S FEAST.

THE following articles constituted an entertainment at Hoghton Hall, in Lancashire, the seat of Sir Arthur Lake, to King James, Sunday, August 17th, 1617:

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