V 
THE DOCTORS AND THE COOKING SCHOOLS. 
ILL you go to hear Mrs. Rorer lecture this 
morning 1 ?” I said to a friend one delight¬ 
fully cool morning, as we chanced to meet on the 
World’s Fair Grounds. 
“ No,” she replied, “ there are too many things to 
see, and one can read lectures and see enough cooking 
at home. Time is too precious here to spend it in 
attending lectures on cookery. I shall spend the 
morning in the Art Palace.” I was not dissuaded, 
however. I was anxious to see and hear Mrs. Rorer. 
It often seemed to me that in many of the recipes 
given in her recipe books there was much ado about 
noth ng. So many ingredients used in a single dish ; 
a pinch of this, a dash of that, and a sprinkle of the 
other ; so much grating and straining that it seemed 
as if the preparation of a single, so called, simple dish 
would require much more time than the busy house¬ 
wife could afford to bestow on it. It was therefore 
with some little prejudice that I entered the lecture- 
room. I took my seat immediately in front of the 
“ Model Kitchen,” in full view of the speaker. Mv 
prejudice was very soon supplanted by intense interest, 
both in the presence and personality of the lecturer, 
and in the subject matter under consideration. 
I would like to report the main points in the lecture, 
and also give some of the thoughts suggested by it, 
but the thoughts crowd in so fast that the lecture 
must “lie on the table” until another time. The 
“ Model Kitchen” itself, where Mrs. Rorer lectures 
(next to the assemby room in the Woman’s Building) 
is something to pattern after ! If we were all pro¬ 
vided with such, the kitchen work would not so will¬ 
ingly be given over to the care of hired help whenever 
it can be afforded. No dingy pans, no heavy iron pots, 
no cooking utensils of any kind in which a bit of rag 
had been drawn through some worn-out part to pre¬ 
vent leakage (!) but everything so new, so spotlessly 
clean, so dainty withal, that kitchenwork seemed 
bereft of its drudgery. 
As I listened and watched I became more and more 
impressed with the sad truth that so very, very few 
know how to cook food in a palatable and wholesome 
manner. The first part of the lecture this particular 
morning was a discussion of beef tea, directions for 
the preparation and its value and use in sickness. I 
never before felt how very much more physicians 
would be able to accomplish if they knew more about 
the art of cooking. How many times death visits the 
home and calls some dear one away because the proper 
food, under the circumstances, has not been adminis¬ 
tered. If physicians knew, so that they could give 
directions in detail for the preparation of various 
dishes so often required in sickness, what a factor in 
the building up of their practice, and what a help to 
the anxious mother, who in her devotion and solici¬ 
tude for the sufferer, yet is uncertain what is best to 
administer; what a help, if the physician is able to 
say “ Give so and so, prepared thus.” A lady to-day 
said to me : “ When F. had the typhoid fever, the 
doctor said : ‘ Give him beef tea ; cut up the beef, put 
it in a tight vessel, pour some water over it and boil 
it till the meat will go to pieces, till you get all the 
juices out of it.’” Mrs. Rorer would hold up her 
hands in holy horror at such a recipe. The doctor did 
not know anything about beef tea or the art of mak¬ 
ing it. The food is 10, yes, we might almost say, 100 
times more important than medicines. Mothers ought 
to know what food to give, but in thousands of in¬ 
stances they are helpless or depend entirely upon the 
instructions given by the physician, who is often quite 
incompetent in this respect. And among the poor 
and uneducated who have had very little opportunity 
to learn the why and wherefore in cookery, it would 
be an incalculable aid, if the “young doctor,” just 
graduated, had also graduated from a cooking school. 
His own success demands it, and his success means his 
ability for overcoming sickness. Proper food being 
the basis—the foundation—of good health, the physi¬ 
cian should by all odds know what properly cooked 
food is, and also how it should be prepared. 
Now just a word (?) about Mrs. Rorer—I say, go 
and hear her by all means when you go to the Fair 
even if there is only time to go to one lecture. It will 
repay you better than a morning spent in the Art 
Palace. It is not simply what she may say which will 
be of benefit (although all she says is intensely inter¬ 
esting and thoroughly practical), but her earnestness, 
her enthusiasm, may serve to stir up a more serious 
interest in the whole subject of cooking. The prepa¬ 
ration of food is a matter of vastly more consequence, 
and deserves much more consideration than it receives 
—not the consideration merely, which may result in 
the evolution of some new dish, but that study, 
thought and care which will insure a certain degree 
of skill in this important art. The family cooking 
should not be given entirely into the hands of hired 
help, any more than a man’s business should be 
entrusted, wholly, to his employees. There is much 
room for improvement, and it should be the aim and 
desire of those who properly have the cooking in 
charge, to do it well. mrs. w. a. kellekman. 
ADVANTAGES OF AN UNKNOWN. 
HE large contingent of unknown writers has 
many grievances, and often appears to be fight¬ 
ing against heavy odds ; nevertheless there are advan¬ 
tages on the side of the unknown literary element. 
We can never be accused of trading on the successes of 
our ancestors, or bringing a famous name into dis¬ 
grace by signing it to one of our inferior a'tides, 
Neither is our appearance in the public press heralded 
by an advertisement, similar to the show-bills of a 
circus, stating that the daughter or son, nephew or 
niece of the great literary lion, “ So and So,” will ap¬ 
pear at such an hour on a certain day of the week, in 
the “ Shouting Herald,” and it is hoped the public 
will show a cultivated taste and proper appreciation 
of her or his article, whether it is worth reading or not. 
I was more than ever impressed on reading a story 
written by a daughter of a famous man, in one of our 
magazines, whose editor has a penchant for “ big 
names,” in 6pite of his assertions to the contrary. I 
wondered if he was proud of the threadbare story to 
which the name w is attached; in which the old 
house, which boasted of the time-worn, haunted stair¬ 
case, descended to the child and heir in India, who 
soon after taking possession, died from the effects of 
a touch from the ghost of the haunted staircase. If 
an unknown writer of 16 years had offered such a 
stale bit of a story for sale, the editor would doubt¬ 
less have consigned it to the waste basket without so 
much as informing the writer that unless she could 
write something original she had better black boots 
or do housework for a living. A short time ago I 
read an item saying that the son of this same famous 
author, who has ever been a favorite of mine, had 
been writing a book, but hesitated about giving it to 
the public on account of his father’s previous success. 
If his talents are on a par with those of his sister, I 
should think he would hesitate rather than blast the 
reputation acquired by his father through a long line 
of brilliant successes. I would rather appear under a 
nom de plume as an unknown writer. 
If a person who has had the advantage of such a 
father cannot achieve success among the vast army 
of unknown writers who come from obscure parent¬ 
age, he may rest assured that he has inherited no 
talent for literature. If the work of an unknown 
writer finds a market, we are sure that it is accepted 
for itself. There must be some merit or originality 
to insure its success, and although we unknowns are 
often ignorant of where the merit lies, yet we can 
claim all the honor and recompense which accrue to 
it as our honest due, and have no feeling that we have 
injured the dead whom we reverenced and loved. 
ALICE E. PINNEY. 
[Apropos of the above, it is told of Queen Victoria 
that when younger she offered a volume of po>ms to 
a certain publisher, using a pseudonym ; the pub¬ 
lisher lost no time in “returning with thanks ” the 
unknown work of his queen. Ed.] 
WOMANLY INGENUITY AT WORK. 
PLACE FOR FRUIT JAR RINGS—Either to 
put the rubber rings in place on the clean j irs, 
or to leave them polluting the interior with their 
rubbery smell is not the best plan. The “ Lightning 
jars” in particular injure the ring unnecessarily if 
clasped upon it when not sealed. Our plan, recently 
adopted and so satisfactory that we want others to 
adopt it, all hangs upon having a wardrobe hook be¬ 
hind your pantry door, or in some equally conven¬ 
ient but out-of-the-way place. One might have two 
hooks and sort the rings as they are placed there, 
putting the best ones on t^e upper hook and those 
that seem hardened, or any way doubtful, on the 
lower one. A rubber ring that one would not trust 
strawberries and early summer fruit with, may have 
quinces, sweet pickles or preserves confided to its 
care without misgivings. Self-sealing fruit jars are 
not the expensive luxuries they once were, and if one 
can have enough of them so that all sorts of sweets 
may be sealed air-tight, that eternal vigilance exacted 
of the good housekeeper may know a little respite so 
far as preserves and sweet pickles are concerned. 
Hooks. —Not every woman may know that there is 
a sort of wardrobe hook made that she can easily put 
up for herself with no other tool than a brad-awl. 
The thing can be done, when the wood is not too hard, 
with only a hammer and a small nail; you drive the 
nail in a little way to make a hole, then pull it out 
and screw in the hook. You know how anything cut 
with a screw thread fairly turns itself into the wood 
when well started and turned with some pressure. 
These hooks are made of heavy wire, one end finished 
with the thread to screw into the wall and the other 
end, after making the hook proper, turned into a 
second hook underneath and forming a sort of brace. 
They are not to be recommended for the suspension 
of heavy weights, perhaps, but the ease with which 
they are put up suggests their use in many an odd 
corner where a man would think it nonsense to want 
a hook. 
Hooks as Personal Property. —Of course the wire 
hooks mentioned above are as readily taken out as 
put up, and it might easily happen that a dozen or 
two packed up with one’s kit of belongings when 
starting on a camping tour or a sea-shore trip might 
prove the most indispensable conveniences. In a sea¬ 
shore cottage where I once spent a summer, each 
sleeping apartment boasted of not more than two or 
three hooks, and there were no closets, of course. I 
don’t know how many dozen hooks we screwed into 
its board sheathings, but I know our dresses must 
have been in a pretty state without them. The idea 
of providing one’s self with a box of hooks when 
traveling from one lodging place to another I got 
from a paper—maybe The Rural —long ago, and like 
most ideas treasured long enough, it came in play 
some time ago. I bought a dozen small brass hooks 
and in more than one bed-room they have done good 
service. 
Contrivances of a Transient. —A stretch of halls 
and possible meetings with any number of strangers 
may lie between you and tne bath-room, and as for 
the kitchen, its whereabouts are wholly problematic, 
and you would as soon think of going to the 
locomotive boiler on a railroad train for hot water, as 
of asking for a pitcherful at the kitchen door. All 
this may happen when you are not at a hotel and free 
to ring for hot water. Two brass hooks supporting a 
length of wire picture cord diagoually across a corner 
may be arranged to suspend a small tin pail over the 
gas jet. The pail you can buy for a few cents and 
keep hidden away when not in use. Hot—yes, boil¬ 
ing water can be had at a moment’s notice almost. 
Might it not be well to go provided with the hooks 
and picture wire when you visit Chicago this year ? 
Every one is prophesying that there will be a great 
deal of sickness there and hot water in the small hours 
of the night is often an imperative necessity in a case 
of sudden indisposition. prudence primrose. 
VIRTUES OF HOPS. 
O begin with, the vine is a hardy perennial, afford 
ing a good shade when trained over windows or 
porches. It makes a good appearance at any time, 
but is especially lovely when the pale-green hops hang 
thickly among the dark leaves. Here are a few fav¬ 
orite uses for the’pretty cones : A bag of hop3 steamed 
and applied to the seat of a pain will give speedy re¬ 
lief. A hop pillow is one of the best remedies for in¬ 
somnia, if not the very best. Hop tea is very efficient 
in eases of nervousness. The doctor told me to put a 
few hops in a teacup, fill with boiling water, cover 
closely and let stand until cold. This was to be taken 
twice a day until relief was obtained. I did not meas¬ 
ure the quantity of hops steeped atone time, but should 
think a tablespoonful. It is said that the young shoots 
are delicious cooked and served like asparagus, but 
this I cannot vouch for, as we have never been willing 
to sacrifice our shade to the experiment. Gillette m. 
A cream of tartar baking powder. 
Highest of all in leavening strength. 
—Latest United States Government 
Report. 
Royal Baking Powder Co., 
106 Wall Street, New York. 
