98 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FAEM. 



Reader, gentle reader, it being just after supper, I am 

 lavish of pet receipts ; and, having last time told you of 

 the mysteries of that delicious compound, potatoes and 

 buttermilk, to which we poor farmers, in these sad 

 times, must fain so often have recourse, let me now 

 give you a Lint of another stunning amalgamation. 

 Upon your plate lay a slice of rich cheese, which pare, 

 and work up to melting mood with your knife, used 

 medical-spatulalike, by help of about one-sixth part of 

 butter. Then, taking the castors in hand, pour out 

 and sprinkle on your product, of the contents of each 

 bottle — vinegar, cayenne, black pepper, Worcester 

 sauce, anchovy, oil, salt, mustard, catsup, and what- 

 else may offer. Beat up and mix well. And the 

 result ? Don't ask me, but try. Our teeth are water- 

 ing already. Try it, my lads, if you never have done ; 

 and be thankful to him who has given you the receipt 

 for " crab," or, as some term it, " all-around," from the 

 simple mode in which the source of its excellence, the 

 condimental reservoir, is used. 



But we must really get out-of-doors. I shall be glad 

 when the ash-bud bursts, and there is a good sub- 

 stantial bite upon the meadows again. I am thankful 

 that we have an abundance of mangold left, and a good 

 stock of hay — this latter not of the best, however. 

 From a variety of causes, it was allowed to grow too 

 old before it was mown. 



It scarcely seems so, but it will soon be a year since 

 a jolly young friend of ours saluted us as follows : " I'll 

 tell you what it is, old fellow — if you don't cut this 

 field soon, you'll just be making toothpicks for your 

 stock, instead of fodder. It will be no better than 

 straw." He was right in a good deal. If one pretends 



