EDITORIAL 



159 



There is a second interesting fact de- 

 ducible from this mass of correspondence. 

 Up to the present time not one particle 

 of hominy has reached me, although I 

 have had specimens of the modern hulled 

 corn, some of it dried and some of it, a 

 very excellent article, put up in cans with 

 milk. We are doing our best, in view of 

 the disadvantages of the hot weather, to 

 attend to this correspondence, hoping that 

 out of it we may at least :get "only three 

 grains of corn, mother," ground into the 

 real hominy. 



Sometime I am going to deplore the 

 loss of real hulled corn from New Eng- 

 land, though I judge from the letters 

 that it is not wholly gone from the 

 Southern States. But that is another 

 story. 



By whose authority have these two 

 substances become so confounded, the 

 one with the other? Hominy is hominy 

 in New England and hulled corn is 

 hulled corn — as clear, sharp and distinctly 

 differentiated as your eyes are from your 

 hands. 



How Hominy Was Made. 



Painesville, Ohio. 

 To the Editor : 



Your article on the passing of hominy 

 has attracted my attention and interest. 

 While I can be of no service to you in 

 your search for the desired article, yet 

 possessing one item of information, which 

 you confess you lack, I venture to describe 

 the process of making hominy in Maine in 

 my boyhood. The corn raised was a 

 "short season" golden yellow variety, 

 maturing wathout "dent." As soon as it 

 was sufficiently ripe enough was gathered 

 to make a "grist." The ears were 

 husked and spread out to "cure." When 

 thoroughly dry they were shelled and 

 taken to mill. The upper and nether mill- 

 stones were separated so as to grind 

 coarse. In grinding the hard part came 

 throug'h about one-half or one-third the 

 size of rice grains. 



The preparation of cooking consisted of 

 taking a sufficient quantity and putting it 

 into a broad pan — a milk pan usually — ■ 

 filled with cold water. Stirring caused the 

 hull or bran and the softer parts to float, 

 while the coarse, deep yellow grains re- 

 mained at the bottom. It was then an 

 easv matter to float off the useless parts, 

 and lo, the hominy was ready for cooking. 

 This was accomplished by boiling for sev- 



eral hours, with frequent stirring, in 

 water seasoned with salt. When supper- 

 time came it was served with freshly 

 drawn milk. It was, indeed, a dish "fit 

 to set before a king." 



Sliaring with you a longing for some 

 genuine, old-fashioned hominy, I beg 

 leave to subscribe myself, 



Yours very truly, 



George A. Lord. 



The Chews One Chooses. 



Professor M. A. Bigelow in his "Ap- 

 plied Biology" has an interesting para- 

 graph on the value of mastication, 

 which he says has been the subject of 

 much discussion, and is still uncertain, 

 "For there are some people who masti- 

 cate little and have perfectly healthy- 

 digestion, and there are others who 

 masticate extensively and claim to have 

 thereby cured indigestion. The truth 

 is that it is largely a question of the 

 kind and amount of food and the habits 

 of the individual." That is each in- 

 dividual chews as he chooses. 



The range of choosing is wide. Prob- 

 ably the best example in all literature 

 of a bolter of food, or a supposed bolter, 

 is given by Dickens in his "Great Ex- 

 pectations." It will be remembered 

 that Pip planned to take food to the 

 convict on the marsh and that he had 

 an interesting competition with Joe in 

 eating bread and butter. While they 

 were eating as usual, Pip, the really 

 young boy, referred to by Joe, the older 

 young boy, as "the old chap," planned 

 to hide his bread and butter untouched 

 "down his leg," supposedly within his 

 trousers pocket. Suddenly the bread 

 and butter vanished to Joe's wonder 

 and consternation, who protests against 

 such startling bolting of food as fol- 

 lows : 



" 'I say, you know !' muttered Joe, 

 shaking his head at me in a very ser- 

 ious remonstrance. 'Pip, old chap ! 

 You'll do yourself a mischief. It'll 

 stick somewhere. You can't have 

 chawed it, Pip.' 



" 'You know, Pip,' said Joe, solemn- 

 ly, with his last bite in his cheek, and 

 speaking in a confidential voice, as if 

 we two were quite alone, 'you and me 

 is always friends, and I'd be the last 

 to tell upon you, any time. But such 

 a' — he moved his chair, and looked 



