ANOTHER  HOLIDAY  DINNER. 
HE  menu  here  given  is  not  an  elaborate  or  ex¬ 
pensive  one,  and  unless  one  has  capable  servants 
no  dinner  for  a  family  gathering  should  be — for  if  the 
guests  are  reasonable  people,  they  would  much  rather 
have  one  that  would  give  the  hostess  little  anxiety  as 
to  details  on  the  day  itself. 
.  DINNER  MENU. 
Tomato  Bisque. 
Scalloped  Oysters. 
Roast  Turkey.  Glblet  Sauce. 
Currant  Jelly. 
Potato  Puff.  Baked  Sweet  Potatoes. 
Creamed  Onions.  Baked  Cauliflower. 
Celery  Salad. 
Wafers.  Cheese. 
Pumpkin  Pie.  Cranberry  Tarts. 
Cocoanut  Pyramid. 
Caramel  Ice  Cream.  Fruit 
Coffee. 
Tomato  Bisque. — Put  a  quart  of  milk  in  a  farina 
boiler,  and  when  scalding-hot  stir  in  a  tablespoonful 
of  corn-starch  that  has  been  wet  in  a  little  cold  milk 
(taken  out  of  the  quart)  and  cook  until  it  thickens — or 
about  10  minutes.  While  this  is  boiling  heat  a  pint 
can  of  tomatoes,  rub  them  through  a  soup  strainer  or 
colander,  and  add  them  to  the  milk  mixture.  Season 
with  a  small  teaspoonful  of  salt,  a  lump  of  baking 
soda  the  size  of  a  pea,  a  heaping  tablespoonful  of 
butter,  half  a  saltspoonful  of  white  pepper  and  a 
pinch  of  Cayenne.  Serve  hot. 
The  Turkey. — If  you  have  a  covered  roaster  there 
will  be  little  danger  of  the  bird’s  becoming  too  brown, 
but  if  not,  it  must  be  carefully  watched,  turned  often, 
and  covered  with  a  piece  of  buttered,  old  muslin  cloth. 
Thicken  the  gravy  with  two  even  tablespoonfuls  of 
flour  browned  in  the  fat,  and  a  pint  of  hot  water 
stirred  in  until  it  boils  and  is  smooth.  Serve  in  a 
gravy  boat.  The  giblets  have  been  previously  boiled, 
chopped  fine,  highly  seasoned  and  added  to  the  liquor. 
Potato  Puff.-— Highly  season  one  pint  of  mashed 
potatoes  with  butter,  salt  and  pepper  and  make  rather 
more  moist  with  milk  than  you  would  for  the  table. 
Add  the  well-beaten  yolk  of  an  egg  and  beat  vigor¬ 
ously,  then  the  whites  of  two  eggs  beaten  stiff,  and 
arrange  the  mass  in  a  mound  in  a  low,  buttered  dish 
on  which  it  can  be  served.  Bake  in  a  hot  oven  10 
minutes,  or  until  the  top  is  nicely  browned. 
Baked  Cauliflower. — Trim  the  head  nicely  and 
place  it  top  downwards  into  cold,  salt  water  and  let  it 
remain  an  hour  to  draw  out  any  insects  that  may  be 
in  it.  Then  tie  a  cheese  cloth  bag  over  it  and  boil  half 
an  hour  in  salted  water.  Remove  from  the  bag  and 
place,  flower  side  up,  in  a  pudding  dish  from  which  it 
can  be  served.  Make  a  white  sauce  of  one  tablespoon¬ 
ful  of  butter,  one  of  flour  and  a  teacupful  of  milk. 
Dip  this  carefully  over  the  cauliflower,  sprinkle  a 
mixture  of  equal  parts  of  buttered  bread  crumbs  and 
grated  cheese  over  the  top,  and  brown  nicely. 
Celery  Salad. — Cut  crisp  white  celery  crosswise  in 
half  inch  lengths,  and  place  in  cold,  salt  water.  At  the 
last  moment  before  serving,  drain  on  a  napkin  and 
pour  over  it  a  mayonnaise  previously  made  ready. 
Mix  this  with  the  celery,  stirring  with  a  silver  fork, 
saving  a  little  to  pour  over  the  top. 
Cocoanut  Pyramid. — One  teacupful  of  granulated 
sugar,  a  scant  half-cupful  of  butter,  half  a  cupful  of 
milk,  1  }4  cupfuls  of  flour,  one  heaping  teaspoonful  of 
baking  powder  and  the  whites  of  three  eggs.  Cream 
the  butter  and  sugar,  add  the  whites  beaten  to  a  stiff 
froth,  the  flour  sifted  twice  with  the  powder,  the  milk 
and  half  a  teaspoonful  of  extract  of  vanilla,  and  bake 
in  a  biscuit  tin.  When  cold,  cut  in  small  squares,  dip 
in  frosting  and  roll  in  grated  cocoanut.  Place  the 
squares  on  a  cake  standard  or  plate,  in  pyramid  form 
and  sprinkle  loose  cocoanut  over  the  whole  plenti¬ 
fully. 
Caramel  Ice  Cream. — One  pint  of  cream,  one  of 
milk,  one  egg,  one  heaping  teacupful  of  granulated 
sugar  and  one  teaspoonful  of  vanilla.  Put  two  table¬ 
spoonfuls  of  granulated  sugar  into  an  iron  spider  and 
stir  over  the  fire  until  it  melts,  turns  brown,  boils  and 
smokes.  Put  the  milk  in  a  double  boiler  over  the  fire 
and  when  at  the  boiling  point  add  the  well  beaten 
yolk  of  the  egg,  and  the  burnt  sugar,  stir  for  three 
minutes  and  remove  from  the  fire.  When  cold,  add 
the  cream,  vanilla  and  white  of  egg  beaten  to  a  stiff 
froth,  and  freeze. 
Celery,  salted  almonds  and  olives  should  be  supplied, 
and  candies  and  nuts  should  be  added  to  the  dessert. 
The  fruit — if  fine — might  be  arranged  handsomely 
for  a  center-piece,  and  olives  and  almonds  should  be 
served  in  dainty  glass,  silver  or  china  dishes  and  placed 
on  the  table  when  it  is  set.  Serve  rolls,  bread  or 
toasted  Boston  crackers  with  the  bisque. 
The  celery  should  be  brought  on  and  removed 
with  the  roast.  After  the  vegetables,  pass  the  jelly. 
When  this  course  is  finished  remove  all  the  dishes  ex¬ 
cept  such  as  were  on  at  the  commencement. 
The  hostess  should  serve  the  salad  on  dessert  or 
breakfast  plates.  The  wafers  and  cheese  are  next 
served,  and  everything  removed  and  the  crumb  scraper 
used  before  the  dessert  is  brought  on. 
The  hostess  will  serve  the  pie,  the  waitress  passing 
it  to  the  guests.  After  dessert  fruit,  bon-bons  and 
nuts,  serve  the  coffee.  It  should  be  made  strong  and 
cream  and  sugar  should  be  offered  though  they  are 
rarely  used.  katherine  b.  Johnson. 
MR.  AND  MRS.  CLEVER  WATCH  THE  TREND 
OF  THE  TIMES. 
A  V  E  you  written  to  Mother  Clever  lately, 
Solomon  ?” 
“  Eh,  Mathilde  ?”  came  absorbedly  from  behind  the 
paper. 
“  Do  you  remember  when  you  wrote  home  last  ?” 
“  Why  !  to-morrow  maybe  ;  or  next  week,  my  dear.” 
“  Will  you  look  at  me,  Mr.  Clever  ?  I  am  asking  you 
when  you  wrote  to  your  mother  last.  ” 
“Oh!”  Mr.  Clever  came  to  the  surface  laughingly. 
“  I  really  beg  your  pardon,  my  wife.  You  will  have 
to  deprive  me  of  my  stocks  and  markets  if  you  wish 
me  to  be  sensible.  I  think — I  should  judge — that  it 
was  ;  oh,  last  month  perhaps.” 
“  Not  at  Thanksgiving,  Solomon  ;  for  I  myself  wrote 
then  to  say  that  we  couldn’t  get  away  this  year.” 
“So  you  did!  And  really  can  it  be  possible?  I 
cannot  be  sure  that  I  have  written  since  that  time  at 
the  shore.” 
“  And  that  was  ?” 
“Let  me  see:  June — July — five  months  ago,  I 
declare.” 
“  Now  will  you  give  me  your  opinion  of  yourself  as 
the  dutiful  son  of  the  best  mother  that  ever  watched 
and  waited  for  a  son’s  letter,  Mr.  Clever  ?” 
“It  is  too  bad,  I  admit,  Mathilde.  But,  you  see, 
mother  don’t  know  anything  about  what’s  going  on 
here,  and  I  really  can't  think,  sometimes,  what  to  say 
except  ‘  Dear  mother,’  and  ‘Your  affectionate  son.’  ” 
“  I  should  think  she  might  be  glad  even  of  that, 
once  or  twice  a  year  !  But  your  argument  is  the 
strongest  possible  one  on  the  other  side.  If  mother 
don’t  know  anything  of  what  is  going  on  here  in  this 
big,  interesting  city,  who  can  better  tell  her  a  little 
about  it  than  yourself  ?” 
“  Bonds  and  stocks  and  markets,  and — Wall  street  ?” 
“You  could  make  even  Wall  street  interesting  to  her, 
and  you  needn’t  say  too  much  about  bonds,  etc.  I  will 
warrant  that  you  have  not  thought  to  tell  her  about 
the  after-tide  from  the  great  convention,  which  swept 
through  Wall  street,  when  the  Endeavorers  sang 
hymns  of  peace  and  good-will  on  the  very  battle¬ 
ground  of  the  most  strongly  developed  selfishness  and 
avarice  of  the  continent.” 
“  No  ;  but  I  think  I  haven’t  written  her  since.  And 
she  saw  all  that  in  the  papers,  probably.” 
“If  you  remember,  she  doesn't  take  a  daily  paper, 
and  even  her  ‘  Weekly  Budget  ’  is  not  always  read, 
while  it  seldom  gives  more  than  the  r6sum6  of  gen¬ 
eral  happenings.  Back  in  the  country,  with  no  young 
life  about  her,  news  isn’t  talked  of  before  her.  You 
could  put  life  into  these  things  for  her.” 
“  But  it’s  an  awful  lot  of  trouble  to  write  so  much, 
Mathilde.” 
“  How  many  years  have  we  been  married,  Solomon  ?” 
“  I  should  say — about  12,”  undecidedly  replied  Mr. 
Clever,  at  a  loss  to  understand  his  wife’s  sudden  change 
of  topic. 
“  And  how  old  were  you  then  ?  ” 
“  You  know  well  enough  that  I  was  25,  Mathilde.” 
“  And  you  took  care  of  yourself  all  those  25  years  ? 
It  was  an  easy  task,  no  doubt,  as  infant,  or  particular 
young  man.” 
“  But  no,  I  didn’t ;  I  always  lived  at  home,  and 
mother - oh  !  I  see,”  breaking  off  confusedly. 
“  And  mother  was  always  taking  trouble  for  you. 
Fie,  Solomon  !  no  more  flimsy  excuses.  I  hope  you  will 
write  mother  a  long  New  Year  letter,  and  let  it  not  be 
a  list  of  good  resolutions,  merely.  If  you  want  some¬ 
thing  that  isn’t  in  the  papers  to  write  about,  tell  her 
about  that  railroad  around  two  sides  of  Macy’s  store, 
just  inside  the  plate-glass  windows,  where  is  shown 
some  interesting  panorama,  every  year  from  Thanks¬ 
giving  to  Christmas.  It  is  ‘  as  good  as  a  show  ’  to  the 
thousands  of  poor  people  who  blockade  the  broad  side¬ 
walks  from  morning  until  night.  One  year  it  was 
Robinson  Crusoe  and  Friday  and  their  various  adven¬ 
tures,  in  successive  pictures,  and  with  life-size  figures  ; 
last  year  it  was  a  Mother  Goose  story  ;  now  it  is  the 
World’s  Fair,  with  the  Agricultural  building  by  the 
lake,  and  ships  sailing  past,  back  and  forth.  Here  and 
there  about  the  grounds  you  see  the  crowds  of  people, 
and  at'one  end,  real  engines  running  in  Machinery  Hall. 
“  Then  there  was  the  great  chrysanthemum  show. 
She  will  believe  that  there  are  chrysanthemums  the 
diameter  of  your  head,  if  you  tell  her  you  saw  them. 
Tell  her  the  $50  ‘  cups  ’  she  reads  about  are  sometimes 
teapots,  urns,  or  bowls,  or  even  other  forms,  engraved 
with  the  name  of  the  giver,  the  winner,  and  the  show, 
elegantly  chased,  and  beautiful  to  see. 
“  Do  you  remember  how  fond  she  is  of  clove  pinks? 
Tell  her  about  the  great  bowls  of  carnations,  100  in  a 
bunch;  and  how  the  florists  could  not  enter  for  the 
offered  cup  for  a  certain  number  of  blooms  over  three 
inches  in  diameter,  because  they  couldn’t  grow  any  as 
large,  although  they  now  have  many  almost  three 
inches  across.  She  will  open  her  eyes  at  that.” 
“  I  wonder  why  I  couldn’t  send  her  a  plant  or  so  of 
those  big  ones,  in  the  spring  ?  ”  put  in  Mr.  Clever, 
waking  up  to  the  situation.  “  She  would  never  think 
of  buying  one  for  herself,  pennies  always  came  so  hard 
to  her.” 
“  Try  it,  my  dear,”  and  Mrs.  Clever  clapped  her 
hands  softly.  “I  am  sure  that  both  you  and  she  will 
then  have  something  to  talk  about.” 
“Then  you  could  tell  her  about  the  Horse  Show,  and 
a  word  about  the  big  Garden  itself.” 
“  O,  every  one  knows  about  the  Garden.” 
“All  New  York  ;  yes.  But  ‘Garden’  leads  outsiders 
to  think  of  plants  and  flowers.  They  get  no  concep¬ 
tion  of  merely  an  immense  hall,  stretching  across  a 
whole  block,  with  tier  upon  tier  of  seats  about  a  great 
central  space.  Tell  mother  how  we  sat  at  an  end  and 
watched  a  man  walking  across  the  other,  and  that  he 
looked  but  a  mere  small  boy.  Tell  her  that  you  could 
put  all  the  people  of  five  such  towns  as  Catoville,  (it 
claims  3,000  now  doesn’t  it?)  in  it  at  once.” 
“  Why,  just  tell  her  about  the  things  we  are  inter¬ 
ested  in.  You  couldn’t  begin  to  get  it  all  into  a  letter, 
and  there  are  new  things  coming  up  every  day.” 
“  But  why  don’t  you  write  all  this,  Mathilde  ?” 
“  Because  you  owe  it  to  your  mother,  my  dear,  and 
because  she  will  care  more  for  it  from  you.” 
“You  are  good,  not  to  say  outright  that  I  have  been 
a  selfish  pig,  Mathilde,  and  if  you  will  excuse  me  fora 
half  hour,  I  will  go  to  the  library  and  write  at  once, 
that  mother  may  not  miss  her  letter  for  New  Years.” 
MYRA  V.  NORYS. 
WHAT  I  DO. 
OME  of  those  letters  in  The  Rural  have  afforded 
me  much  amusement,  a  little  indignation  and 
a  soupcon  even  of  wrath.  And  if  I  didn’t  know  how 
impossible  it  would  be  to  express  half  my  “senti¬ 
ments”  in  200  words,  or  400  either,  I  would  give  their 
authors  to  understand  that  a  few  of  us  “Southrons” 
read  The  Rural,  and  that  some  of  their  descriptions 
of  our  customs  are  strange  to  us.  But  what  I  want 
to  tell  you  this  time  is  how  I  get  rid  of  “  the  blues,”  a 
country  girl’s  worst  foe.  I  have  a  horse  of  my  own — 
a  big,  strong-limbed  bay,  a  black  cloth  habit  that  fits 
without  a  wrinkle  (I  couldn’t  enjoy  my  ride  if  it  didn’t) 
and  when  I  begin  to  feel  that  a  space  in  the  family 
graveyard  will  suit  me  for  the  time  being  better  than 
anywhere  above  ground,  I  drop  everything  and  gallop 
away  through  sunny  byways  and  shaded  paths,  till  my 
brain  is  rested  and  contentment  comes  home  to  my 
heart.  Oh  !  the  rush  of  the  wind  as  “Monk”  gallops 
on,  and  the  sweet  breath  of  Nature,  rolling  down 
from  these  old  Virginia  hills  make  one  glad  to  live ! 
Try  it,  you  housebound  woman,  and  come  back  a  new 
creature,  ready  for  those  trying  duties  which  hang  on 
every  nail  in  the  kitchen.  louise  marrison. 
Before  the  cause  of  consumption  was 
known  (that  was  only  a  few  years  ago) 
we  did  not  know  how  Scott’s  Emulsion  of 
cod-liver  oil  did  so  much  good  in  con¬ 
sumption  and  in  the  conditions  that  lead 
to  consumption. 
The  explanation  is  interesting.  We  send 
it  free  in  a  book  on  careful  living. 
Scott  &  Bownb, Chemists,  132  South  5th  Avenue,  New  Fork. 
Vour  druggist  keeps  Scott’s  Emulsion  of  cod-liver  oil-all  druggists 
everywhere  do. ill. 
