156 



NEW ENGLAND FARIMER. 



March 



inch pieces and fry them in a deep kettle over a 

 slow fire. Dip the fat as fast as it accumulates 

 into a perforated strainer, through which it falls 

 into the vessel that is to hold it; an oaken firkin 

 or stone pot this should be. The scraps — scrapnels, 

 some c.iU them — from which the lard is thus sep- 

 arated, if salted and seasoned with pulverized 

 sage, make a good relish with bread and butter 

 for any meal. Beside the leaves, all loose or coarse 

 pieces of fat should be cut and tried in the same 

 way for lard. 



Little need be said about the care or preserva- 

 tion of fish, except that when fresh even greater 

 vigilance than for meat is needed, that it do not 

 become tainted, and that when salt it shall not 

 rust from scarcity of briue. Dry tish, if kept in a 

 dry place, will remain good for years. 



The next chapter will be devoted to the cooking 

 of meats and tish. 



two tablespoonfuls of melted butter, one grated 

 nutmeg and sugar to taste. Other spices may be 

 added if desired. Bake in one crust. 



Recipe for a Liniment. — No better liniment 

 for bruises, on man or beast, was ever used, than 

 equal parts of laudanum, alcohol and oil of worm- 

 wood. It reduces the swelling rapidly, if inflamed, 

 and removes soreness like a charm. The sooner 

 applied, of course, the better. 



To Remove Stains. — A solution of gum arable 

 will remove dirt and stains from marble. Let it 

 remain till it dries, when it will peel off or can be 

 washed off. 



DOMESTIC RECEIPTS. 



Pheasant, Partridge, or Grouse Pie. — Pick 

 and singe two pheasants, or four partridges or 

 grouse; cut off the legs at the knee; season with 

 pepper, salt, chopped parsley, thyme and mush- 

 rooms. Lay a veal steak and a slice of ham at the 

 bottom of the dish; put the partridge in, and a 

 pint of good broth. Put pull' paste on the edge of 

 the dish, and cover with the same; brush over 

 with egg, and bake an hour ; or place them in a 

 raised crust. 



To Stew a Fowl with Onions.— Wash it clean, 

 dry and truss it as for boiling, put a little pepper 

 and salt into it, rub it with a bit of butter, as also 

 the saucepan; put in with the fowl a pint of veal 

 stock or water, a little pepper and salt, turn it now 

 and then, and when it becomes quite tender, add 

 twelve or sixteen small onions, and let them stew 

 for half an hour ; a young fowl will take one hour, 

 and an old one three hours to stew. 



Rich Mince Pies. — Eight pounds of beef, one 

 pound suet, two pounds currants, two pounds 

 raisins, one half peck apples, two ounces ground 

 cloves, two ounces alspice, one-half ounce mace, 

 one ounce nutmegs, three-quarter pounds citron, 

 one-quarter pound cinnamon, eight pounds sugar, 

 half a gallon sweet cider, six lemons. 



Carrot Pies. — Select orange carrots, scrape 

 and boil them and press through a sieve; to a 

 pint of the pulp add one quart of milk, six eggs. 



WHEN YOU WEBE SEVENTEEN. 



When the hay was mown, Mary, 



In the years long ago. 

 And while the western ?ky was rich 



With ("unset's rosy glow. 

 Then hand in hand close linked we passed 



The dewy ricks t)etween, 

 And I was one-and-twenty, May, 



And you were seventeen. 



Your voice was low and sweet, Mary; 



Your wavy hair was brown ; 

 Your cbeek was like the wild red rose 



That showered its petals down ; 

 Your eyes were like the blue speedwell. 



With dewy moisture sheen, 

 When I was one-and-twenty, May, 



And yon were seventeen. 



The spring was in our hearts, Mary, 



And all its hopes were ours; 

 And we were children in the tields, 



Among the opening flowers. 

 Ay 1 Life was like a summer day 



Amid the woodlands green, 

 For I was one-and-twenty. May, 



And you were seventeen. 



The years have come and gone, Mary, 



With sunshine and with shade, 

 And silvered is the silken hair. 



That o'er your shoulders strayed 

 In many a soft, and wayward tress — 



The fairest ever seen — 

 When I was one-and twenty. May, 



And you were seventeen. 



Though gently changing Time, Mary, 



Has touched you in his flight. 

 Your voice has still tbe old sweet tone, 



Your eye the old love light; 

 And years can never, never change 



The heart you gave, I ween. 

 When I was one-and twenty. May, 



And you were seventeen. 



