*1386] ANNUAL REGISTER) 1798. 
dered how we had ever been able 
‘to go on without an oven.—An oven 
would save itself in two months 
in the expence of fuel; for she de- 
clared for her own part that she 
liked baked meat as well as roast ; 
and, whenever I dined out, she and 
the children could do very well with 
a bit of a beef-steak pie, or a baked 
shoulder of mutton; and, besides, 
a Cast-iron oven was no expence— 
she saw one sold at an auction for a 
couple of guineas, and she knew 
the broker that bought it; he lived 
in Moorfields, for she often dealt 
with him.—I did not say a word 
more. 
When I came home to dinner, 
my wife told me, with great joy,that 
she had got the oven, and the brick- 
layer was coming in the morning to 
set it; and she had only paid two 
guineas and a half, and it was as 
good as new. There was not asin- 
gle crack about it, and it was quite 
charming. There was only one 
thing that she did not know how to 
manage—there was not room by 
the side of the fire for the oven with- 
out removing the boiler. But she 
was sure, if the bricklayer had snot 
been an ass, he might have contriv- 
edit somehow. But, hang the cop- 
per, it was not wanted often; it 
might be put up in the little back 
cellar under the counting-house. 
It would be easy, the bricklayer 
said, to carry up a flue. I saw she 
had settled the whole plan, and she 
entertained me during dinner with 
the preparations she had made for 
our new bread. She was sure, she 
said, that potatoes would be dear, 
because every body was going to 
eat them, and she had therefore the 
«precaution to buy in as many as she 
‘thought would serve us for the win- 
e 
ter. ‘* Good God! my dear, they 
will spoil. Where can you keep 
them?” “IT warrant you Ill find 
room,” says she; ‘* and as to their 
spoiling, I'll answer for them, How 
do I preserve pears till the month 
of June? and surely they are more 
delicate than potatoes.” 1 know 
how clever my wife is at these things. 
Her preserves are excellent, and 
there is not a week but some of our 
friends are forced to send to us 
for a pot or two, when their own 
are all spoilt; and my wife always 
takes care to have enough on that 
very account. 
Well, sir, next day my wife beg. 
ged of me to dineat the coffee-house, 
because I knew the kitchen would 
be quite taken up with the. brick- 
layer, and she was determined to 
lose no time, forshe would have a 
loaf ready to put in as soon as the 
oven was set. Well, sir, I went to 
Slaughter’s coffee-house, and told 
my friends how necessary it was for 
every person to set an example, in 
these hard times, of eating a mixed 
bread, and that I had determined to 
introduce it in my own family. In- 
deed, I said, my wife was actually 
about’ it. ‘ Aye, Mr. Cakeling, 
said a neighbour, you are the man 
to lead us the way; you have a 
wife that knows how to do every 
thing. I’ll be bound that she makes 
bread fit for a prince if shesets about 
it.” This is the way, Mr. Urban, 
that all my friends speak about my 
wife, she has got such a name for 
cleverness. So I went home quite 
full of our new bread—No—quite 
elated I mean—for oh, Mr. Urban, 
to this day, and it is six weeks ago 
since we began to bake, I have not 
‘got a bellyful of home-made bread. 
I wish I had time to go through 
3 all 
