The second corse, of fruite well served, Fyttinge well the seson, A medlar, and a hartichoke, A crab, and a small reson. What's hee that having suche a wyfe Since the days of Queen Elizabeth, notwithstanding the unprecedented diffusion of wealth and knowledge, and the consequent progress of refinement in all classes of society, but little improvement has taken place in the system of our national cookery. Strange that in the proud and glorious march of science and philosophy, amid discoveries which have rendered even the elemental principles of nature subservient to our power, that the art which, more than all others, contributes to our enjoyment, should alone have remained uncultivated and unimproved, a bare and barren spot, amid the universal verdure, and the golden fruits of industry and genius! But whatever reproach this acknowledged and palpable deficiency may tend to cast on our national taste, certain we are, that the work of Dr Kitchener will tend in no degree to avert its application. He is equally ignorant of the kind of work which the wants of the public demand, as he is of his own utter unfitness, to write on cookery at all. His, therefore, is a double failure. He has failed both in that which he has attempted, and in not attempting that which alone the public required at his hands. To come forward, in the present day, with a long and laborious treatise on roasting, boiling and stewing, (for prolix directions for these simple operations occupyfour-fifths of the Doctor's book,) is mere trifling at best. In fact, our cooks, bad as they generally are, can roast, boil, and stew, as well as Dr Kitchener himself; or, if they do not, it is negligence, not ignorance, which occasions their failure. It is from practice, not theory, that accuracy in these eler entary processes must be derived. All the necessary instructions have already been a thousand times repeated; and the republic of cooks, we trust, have too much taste and penetration to prefer the tedious prolixity of the Cook's Oracle to the simple and practical directions of Mrs Glass and Mrs Rundell. We trust the days are now past when ancient prejudices can prompt us to reject the improvements of foreign artists, on what is vulgarly termed our national cookery. For the rich, there is no national cookery. The materials of our dishes are furnished by all the regions of the globe. In the compass of a single ragout are congregated the productions of every climate, and of every soil. The east, the west, the north, and the south, unite their treasures to increase its flavour, and of the cook, rather than of the poet, it is true that he has " exhausted worlds,” and if he could discover new, would render them subservient to our greatest source of enjoyment, the gratification of the palate. It is only to the management of these extensive materials, to certain specific and customary combinations of them, that the term national can be applied. The diet of the poor, indeed, is, and must be, regulated by the productions of the country in which they live. For them, there exists no region but that which they inhabit. But this is the law of necessity, not of choice; and the reason why the Highland fisherman devours his spoil without the savoury relish of anchovy sauce, and the Lowland ploughman mingles no curry powder with his porridge, is merely that these articles are placed, perhaps for wise purposes, beyond their reach. But if the productions of our own country are insufficient for the gratification of more refined palates, why, when we borrow the productions of foreign countries to increase our pleasure, should we not likewise adopt those modes of preparation which can render them more subservient to our enjoyment? We have a national literature as well as a national cookery. But the former has been raised to its present eminence, not more by the gigantic efforts of our native genius, than by an intimate knowledge of the beauties and excellence of the literature of foreign nations. So it must be with our cookery. Our indigenous artists must appreciate and adopt the improvements which the science has received in other nations, before it can receive any considerable advancement at home. We cannot but consider it, therefore, as a consummate piece of impertinence in any man in these days of continental intimacy, and uninterrupted intercourse, who presumes to palm upon the public, a bald and unnecessary re petition of elementary directions for the most simple and ordinary processes, as a new system of cookery. "What is, and will be required of every future writer on this subject is, that he shall carefully study the cookery of the different European nations-that he shall make large and judicious selections of the best dishes they afford, thus enlarging the orbit to which the track of our native cooks has hitherto been confined, and opening a new vista of inexperienced enjoyment to the palates of their masters. Whoever publishes a cookery-book, without doing this, is a quack, and we warn the public not to trust to his pretensions. We feel that we have been too prolix in these general observations. But cookery is a subject on which we love to gossip, and we might almost say, with regard to ourselves, that the next enjoyment to eating a good dinner, is to talk about one. But we must have done, and proceed to introduce Dr Kitchener to the more intimate acquaintance of our readers, by giving them a taste or two of his qualities, in the capacity in which he has offered himself to the public. In the preface to the Cook's Oracle, the Doctor gives us the following piece of information. “He has not printed one Receipt that has not been proved in His own Kitchen -which has not been approved by several of the most accomplished Cooks in this Kingdom-and has, moreover, been eaten with unanimous applause by a Committee of Taste, composed of some of the most illustrious Gastropholists of this luxurious Metropolis." Now we should really like to know of whom " the illustrious Gastropholists,” thus vaguely alluded to, consist. If the Doctor will only tell us the names of the members of this illustrious committee, we promise never to dine with one of them should we live a hundred years. As a specimen of the taste of this club of foul feeders, we shall specify a few of those dishes which were devoured by them with unanimous applause. "Scotch Haggies," Scotch Crowdie," "Ox cheek stewed," "Ox tails do.," "Black Broth of Lacedæmon." Or take the following receipt for a savoury mess, which the Doctor calls a 66 Fat Pudding." 66 "Break five Eggs in a basin, beat them up with a teaspoonful of Sugar and a ta N. B. This is a very delicious composition, and is commonly called a MARROW PUDDING. Now, it is surely not judging too harshly of Dr Kitchener's taste, and that of his Committee of illustrious Gastropholists, to assert, that if they, as the Doctor assures us, really considered this mass of unvarnished abomination as 66 a delicious composition," they are just about as well qualified to judge of delicacy of eating as an old Boar, (no personal allusion to the author,) and a Committee of Yorkshire Pigs. The Doc On a diligent comparison, however, of the utter worthlessness of the book as a culinary manual with the shrewdness and sagacity which we believe the Doctor to possess, we think it probable that he trusted his hopes of success in his present undertaking rather to his jokes than his receipts; and looks for applause less to the originality of his discoveries, than from the facetious and sparkling garb in which he has invested them. Be it so. tor's wit shall experience the same ample justice which we have already bestowed upon his cookery. In truth, the better half of his book is occupied, not by receipts for the composition of dishes, for in this respect it is meagre in an unprecedented degree, but by a treatise on the proper mode of issuing and accepting invitations to dinner, instructions to awkward gentlemen and ladies how to conduct themselves in company, directions for carving, friendly advice to cooks, and by various other matters, no doubt very interesting, but which very few of his purchasers have the smallest inclination to the frequent repetition of the same pay for. By the help of all this, and receipt in different parts of his book, the Doctor has certainly succeeded in making a volume of a very respectable size; and we are really inclined to consider him a better maker of a book than of a fricassee. The Doctor does not seem inclined to prize the joys of love so highly as the more enduring, and more easily repeated ones of the stomach. He is, therefore, rather ungallant to the ladies, and scarcely ever omits an opportunity of giving them a sly daub with his brush. We fear the fair sex will be rather out of humour with him for thinking it necessary, in the present day, to extract the following directions for their deportment, from a curious old work, entitled, "The Accomplished Lady's Rich Closet of Varieties; or Ingenious Gentlewoman's Delightful Companion." "A gentlewoman being at table, abroad or at home, must observe to keep her body straight, and lean not by any means with her elbows, nor by ravenous gesture discover a voracious appetite; talk not when you have meat in your mouth; and do not smack like a Pig, nor venture to eat Spoonmeat so hot that the tears stand in your Eyes, which is as unseemly as the Gentlewoman who pretended to have as little a Stomach as she had a Mouth, and therefore would not swallow her Peas by spoonful, but took them one by one, and cut them in two before she would eat them. It is very uncomely to drink so large a draught, that your Breath is almost gone —and you are forced to blow strongly to recover yourself throwing down your liquor as into a Funnel is an action fitter for a Juggler than a Gentlewoman: thus much for your Observations in general, if I am defective as to particulars, your own prudence, discretion, and curious observations will supply. "In CARVING at your own Table, distribute the best pieces first, and it will appear very comely and decent to use a Fork; so touch no piece of Meat without it." We think in the following extract our readers will recognize, like ourselves, an equal proportion of delicacy, wit, and philosophy. he was obliged to pay for it in Ireland "When twice as much cooking is undertaken as there are Servants, or conve niences in the Kitchen to do it properly, dishes must be dressed long before the dinner hour, and stand by spoiling the poor Cook loses her credit, and the poor guests get indigestions. Why prepare for eight or ten Friends more than sufficient for twenty or thirty Visitors? "Enough is as good as a Feast," and a prudent provider, who takes measure of the Appetites, instead of the Eyes of his Guests, may entertain his Friends,-three times as often, and ten times as well. "It is your SECOND COURSES-ridiculous variety of WINES, LIQUEURS, ICES, DESSERTS, &c., which are served up to feed the Eye-that overcome the Sto mach, and paralyze Digestion, and seduce "children of a larger Growth" to sacrifice the health and comfort of several days for the Baby-pleasure of tickling their tongue for a few minutes with Trifles and Custards!!! &c. &c." There is still one topic to which we have not hitherto alluded, but on which it would be unjust to the worthy Doctor to be silent. Aware, probably, of the coarse and abhorrent nature of most of the dishes detailed in his work, he has very judiciously recommended the exhibition of certain wonder-working drugs, to enable patients of weak stomachs to digest them. We recommend them particularly to the attention of all those who intend to subject their stomachs to the tyran"The old Adage that "the Eye is of-nical sway of the Doctor. The fol ten bigger than the Belly," is often verified by the ridiculous vanity of those who wish to make an appearance above their fortune-nothing can be more ruinous of real comfort than the too common custom of setting out a table with a parade and a profusion, unsuited not only to the circumstances of the Host, but to the number of the Guests :-or more fatal to true Hospitality, than the multiplicity of dishes which luxury has made fashionable at the tables of the Great, the wealthy, and the Ostentatious, who are often neither great nor wealthy. "Such excessive preparation, instead of being a compliment to our Guests, is nothing better than an indirect offence; it is a tacit insinuation that it is absolutely necessary to provide such delicacies-to bribe the depravity of their palates, when we desire the pleasure of their company-and that Society in England now must be purchased at the same price SWIFT told POPE lowing passage contains both full directions for their composition and their use. "INDIGESTION will sometimes overtake the most experienced Epicure. When the gustatory nerves are in good humour, Hunger and Savoury Viands will sometimes seduce the Tongue of a "Grand Gourmand" to betray the interests of his Stomach in spite of his Brains. "On such an unfortunate occasion, when the Stomach sends forth eructant sig. nals of distress for help, the Peristaltic Persuaders are as agreeable and effectual assistance as can be offered; and for delicate Constitutions, and those that are impaired by Age or Intemperance, are a vaÎuable Panacea. "They derive, and deserve this name, from the peculiar mildness of their operation. One or two very gently increase the action of the principal viscera, help them concert in the Gardens. It was a late hour when they adjourned there, and the place was quite deserted. The nook we have ust spoken of was chosen for the performince, and thither the instruments and music were brought, the part of the company who were not engaged in the harmony olding lights over the books. It was a ine thing to see the effect of the partially lluminated group, and hear the graceful 1armonies of Haydn rising and falling in that leafy covert. We ought not to omit mentioning, that the circumstance came to the knowledge of the late Dr Calcott, who resided on the spot; and that, in the midst of their second quartett, a strange individual was observed by the company walking at a short distance from them. When it was ascertained that this was the Doctor, the performers laid aside their instruments, and burst, with their skilful voices, into one of his best glees. It was a fine compliment, and we dare say the musician laid up the memory of that night-concert and unexpected homage among the trees of Kensington Gardens as one of the pleasant moments of his existence." O. C. Then follows the poetry, which is all excellent in its way. Nothing can be more comfortable than to see so much good poetry staring one in the face now-a-days, go where we will. We know upwards of 3000 people who write excellent verses; of these, about 1850 are very nearly first-rate poets. They all see deep into human naturemore especially that part of it known under the names of passion and imagination. Pope had little passion, we have been informed, and no imagination. We should like to know the reason of this. Are all these 1850 living gentlemen better poets than Pope? How foolish he would have looked, had he lived during our era! This objection seems to lie against modern poetry, that almost any one volume may as well bear the name on its title-page of any one author as another. Put Byron, Wordsworth, Crabbe, Scott, and Southey, aside, and all the other great living poets seem to us one flock of sheep. We mean no offence by this pastoral image-but really there is not much to pick and chuse between Coleridge, Montgomery, Hogg, Heber, Bowles, Millman, Shelly, Hunt, Wilson, Procter, and the other 1850. Now, this being the case, how can it be expected that we can make a guess even at the names of the anonymous bards of the Pocket-Book School of Poetry? The verses do, for the most part, run not only upon wheels, but TO A CONQUEROR'S WIFE, "Divine lady, who hast been, "Thou, to whom, thro' toil and war, MR NORTH, ON EARLY RISING. In a Letter to Mr North. I HOPE that you are not an early riser. If you are, throw this letter into the fire-if not, insert it. But I beg your pardon; it is impossible that you can be an early riser; and, if I thought so, I must be the most impertinent man in the world; whereas, it is universally known that I am politeness and urbanity themselves. Well then, pray what is this virtue of early rising, that one hears so much about? Let us consider it, in the first place, according to the seasons of the year-secondly, according to peoples' professionand thirdly, according to their cha racter. Let us begin with Spring-say the month of March. You rise early in the month of March, about five o'clock. It is somewhat darkish-at least gloomyish-dampish-rawish coldish-icyish-snowyish. You rub your eyes and look about for your breeches. You find them, and after hopping about on one leg for about five minutes, you get them on. It would be absurd to use a light during that season of the year, at such an advanced hour as five minutes past five, so you attempt to shave by the springdawn. If your nose escapes, you are a lucky man; but dim as it is, you can see the blood trickling down in a hundred streams from your gashed and mutilated chin. I will leave your imagination to conjecture what sort of neckcloth will adorn your gullet, tied under such circumstances. However, grant the possibility of your being dressed-and down you come, not to the parlour, or your study-for you would not be so barbarous-but to enjoy the beauty of the morning,-as Mr Leigh Hunt would say, "out of doors." The moment you pop your phiz one inch beyond the front wall, a scythe seems to cut you right across the eyes, or a great blash of sleet clogs up your mouth, or a hail shower rattles away at you, till you take up a position behind the door. Why, in the name of God, did I leave my bed? is the first cry of nature-a question to which no answer can be given, but a long chitter grueing though the frame. You get obstinate, and out you go. I give you every possible advantage. You are in the country, and walking with your eyes, I will not say open, but partly so, out of a country gentleman's house worth five thousand a-year. It is now aquarter past five, and a fine sharp, blustering morning, just like the season. In going down stairs, the ice not having been altogether melted by the night's rain, whack you come upon your posteriors, with your toes pointing up to heaven, your hands pressed against the globe, and your whole body bob, bob, bobbing, one step after another, till you come to a full stop or period, in a circle of gravel. On getting up and shaking yourself, you involuntarily look up to the windows to see if any eye is upon you-and perhaps you dimly discern, through the blind mist of an intolerable headache, the old housekeeper in a flannel nightcap, and her hands clasped in the attitude of prayer, turning up the whites of her eyes at this inexplicable sally of the strange gentleman. Well, my good sir, what is it that you propose to do? will you take a walk in the garden and eat a little fruit-that is to say, a cabbage leaf, or a jerusalem artichoke? But the gardener is not quite so great a goose as yourself, and is in bed with his wife and six children. So after knocking with your shoulder against the garden gate-you turn about, and espying perhaps a small temple in the shrubbery, thither you repair, and therein I shall leave you till breakfast, to amuse yourself with the caricatures, and the affecting pictures of Eloisa and Abelard. In the intervals of reflection on the virtue of early rising in spring, I allow you to study the history of Europe, in the fragments of old newspapers. March, April, and May, are gone, and it is Summer-so if you are an early riser, up you lazy dog, for it is between three and four o'clock. How beautiful is the sun-rise! What a truly intellectual employment it is to stand for an hour with your mouth wide open, like a stuck pig, gazing on the great orb of day! Then the choristers of the grove have their mouths open likewise; cattle are also lowing-and if there be a dog kennel at hand, I warrant the pack are enjoying the benefits of early rising as well as the best of you, and yelping away like furies before breakfast. The dew too is on |