W H E A I B 11 E A B . 101 



We might suggest that bread is the staff of life ; but as we have 

 a decided aversion to seeming originalities of thought and expression, 

 and to the starting of novelties and striking figures of speech, we 

 refrain from the suggestion. 



Bread, real bread, that which is worthy of the name, is always 

 good ; i. e., it is light, sweet, eatable and digestible. There is much 

 that passes for bread, which is no bread at all. It is a ponderous, 

 acidiferous, uneatable, indigestible, conglomerated mass ; fit food, in- 

 deed, for Congressional doughfaces ; but by no means such as honest 

 and honorable men ought to take, whether they belong to healthy, 

 or " unhealthy," or profoundly unknowing or unknown political or- 

 ganizations. Such a preparation is not bread. It is libellous to call 

 it so. 



Between what we have called bread, and what we have termed no 

 bread, comes in something which, as yet, is a nondescript, though it 

 may not much longer remain such. It is neither very light, nor very 

 heavy, — neither very sweet, nor very sour, — neither very eatable, nor 

 uneatable, — neither very digestible, nor indigestible. It is an am- 

 phibious article, too poor to be eaten, and too good to be uneaten. 

 It is therefore a great evil. It sorely vexeth one's righteous or un- 

 righteous soul. We wish it distinctly understood, at this point, that 

 Ave are not speaking from any painful personal experience. Good 

 bread is a good thing. Bad bread is a bad thing. Amphibious 

 bread is neither the one nor the other. 



Bread-making is a great art. We call it a7i art, for M'e are not 

 aware, that nature produces the ar^-icle, i. e., bread does not grow 

 bread. It is an art in which, too many, whom, by doing violence to 

 language and truth and charity, we may possibly term housckecj^ers, 

 are altogether unskilled. Yet it is an art and an accomplishment, 

 far greater and worthier of attainment, than the most of those which 

 our would-be ladies seek to acquire, and in which it is their pride to 

 become proficients. In its real dignity, beauty and utility, it casts 

 entirely into the shade music and drawing, dancing and painting, and 

 simpering, artificial and affected mannerisms, which occupy the whole 

 minds and employ the tiny, delicate fingers, which it would be per- 

 fectly shocking and horrifying to soil by contact with the realities 

 and utilities of life in the kitchen, in the cellar, in the washing-room, 

 or in the cooking-department. 



The exhibition of bread, to-day, has shown that there are large 

 numbers within the limits of this Society, who are well qualified for 



