382 THE COTTAGE GARDENER. February 13. 
trees will sometimes grow in spite of all tlie rough usage 
bestowed upon them. When I was an apprentice, some 
three years ago, I was sent, with another man, to plant a 
Yew-tree, about six feet in height, the branches of which 
were distributed with great regularity, and I became 
possessed with a strong desire to convert this tree into a 
walking-stick ; so I shook it all manner of ways, till every 
root must have been doubled up, and every particle of the 
original soil shaken from the fibres ; but still the tree grew, 
and, in spite of all its maltreatment, did far better than 
tunny which were planted with every care, imaginable.— 
B. Bincoft. 
A SHORT RECEIPT FOR A POTATO 
PUDDING. 
Mrs. Mudlaw, we premise, is the cook of Mrs Pliilpot, 
wile of the candidate for Congress, and Mrs. Darling is the 
wife of a worthy mechanic, whose vote Colonel l'hilpot is 
ambitious to obtain. Mrs. Darling calls upon Mrs. Pliilpot, 
and the latter introduces her to Mrs. Mudlaw, her cook, 
when the following conversation takes place. 
“ Miss Philpot says you want to get my receipt for potato 
pudden." 
“ Yes,” replied Mrs. Darling, “ 1 would be obliged to you 
for the directions,” and she took out of her pocket a pencil 
and paper to write it down. 
“ Well, ’tis an excellent pudden,” said Mudlaw, com¬ 
placently ; “ for my part, 1 like it about as well as any 
pudden I make, and that’s saying a good deal I can tell you, 
for I understand making a great variety. ’Taint so awful 
rich as some, to be sure. Now there's the Cardenelle 
pudden, and the Washington pudden, and the Lay Payette 
pudden, and the—” 
“ Yes, Mr. Darling liked it very much ; how do you make 
it ?” 
“Wal, I peel my potaters and bile ’em in fair water. I 
always let the water bile before I put ’em in. Some folks 
let their potaters lie and sog in the water ever so long before 
it biles ; but I think it spiles ’em. I always make it a pint 
to have the water bile—” 
“ How many potatoes ?” 
“ Wal, I always take about as many potaters as I think I 
shall want. I'm generally governed by the size of the 
pudden I want to make. If it’s a large pudden, why I take 
quite a number, but if it’s a small one, why then I don’t 
take as many. As quick as tlie’re done, I take ’em up and 
mash ’em as fine as I can get ’em. I’m always very parti¬ 
cular about that, some folks aint, they ’ll let their potaters be 
full o’ lumps. I never do. If there’s anything I hate, it’s 
a lump in potaters. I won't have ’em. Whether I’m mashin 
potaters for puddens or vegetable use, I mash it till there 
aint the size of a lump in it. If I can’t git it fine without 
sifting, why, I sift it. Once in a while, when I’m othenvays 
engaged, I set the girl to mash on’t. Wal, she 'll give it 
three or four jams, and come along, 1 Miss Mudlaw, is the 
potater fine enough?’ Jupiter Eammin ! that’s the time I 
come as near getting mad as I ever allow myself to come, 
for I make it a pint never to have lumps—’’ 
“ Yes, I know it is very important. What next ? ” 
“ Wal, then I put in my butter; in winter time I melt it a 
little, not enough to make it ily, but jest so’s to soften it." 
“ How much butter does it require ?” 
“Wal, I always take butter accordin to the size of the 
pudden; a large pudden needs a good size lump o’ butter, 
but not too much. And I'm always particular to have my 
butter fresh and sweet. Some folks think its no matter what 
sort of butter they use for cookin, but I don’t Of all things 
I do despise strong, frowy, rancid butter. For pity’s sake 
have your butter fresh.” 
“ How much butter did you sny ?” 
“Wal, that depends, as I said before, on what size pudden 
you want to make. And another thing that regulates the 
quantity of butter I use, is the ’mount o’ cream 1 take. I 
always putin more or less cream ; when I have abundance 
o’ cream I always puts in considerable, and when it’s scarce, 
why I use more butter than I otherwise should. But you 
must be particular not to get in too much cream. There's a 
groat deal in havin jest the right quantity; and so’tis with 
all the ingrejiences. There aint a better pudden in the 
world than a potater pudden when its made right, but taint 
everybody that makes ’em right. I remember when I lived 
in Tucker town, I was a visitin to squire Humphrey’s one 
time, I went in the first company in Tuckertown—dear me ! 
this is a changeable world. Wal, they had what they call a 
potater pudden for dinner. Good laud! Of all the 
puddens! I’ve often occurred to that pudden since, and 
wondered what the squire’s wife was a tliinkin of when she 
made it. 1 wa’nt obleged to do such things in them days, 
and didn’t know how to do anything as well as I do now. 
Necessity’s the mother of invention. Experience is the 
best teacher after all—” 
“ Do you sweeten it ? ” 
“ O yes, to be sure, it needs sugar, best o’ sugar, too; not 
the wet, soggy, brown sugar. Some folks never think o’ usin 
good sugar to cook with, but, for my part, I won’t have 
no other— 
“ How much sugar do you take ?” 
“Wal, that depends altogether on whether you calculate 
to have some saas for it, some like saas, you know, and then 
some agin don’t. So, when I calculate for saas, I don't take 
so much sugar; and when I don't calculate for saas, I make 
it sweet enough to eat without saas. Poor Mr. Mudlaw was 
a great hand for pudden saas. I always made it for him, 
' good, rich saas, too. I could afford to have things rich 
before he was unfortunate in business.” (Mudlaw went to 
state’s prison for horse stealing.) “I like saas myself, too, 
and the curnel and the children are all great saas hands; 
so I generally calculate for saas, though Miss Philpot prefers 
the pudden without saas, and perhaps you V prefer it without. 
If so, you must put in sugar accordinly. I always make it 
a pint to have ’em sweet enough when they’re to be eat 
without saas.” 
“ And don’t you use eggs ! ” 
“Certainly, eggs is one o' the principal ingrejiences.” 
“ How many does it require ?” 
“Wal, when eggs is plenty, I always use plenty; and 
when they’re scarce, I can do with less, though I’d rather 
have enough ; and be sure to beat them well. It does 
distress me the. way som folks beat eggs. I always want to 
have 'em thorougly beat for everything I use ’em in. It 
tries my patience most awfully to have anybody round me 
that won't beat eggs enough. A spell ago we had a darkey 
to help in the kitchen. One day I was makin sponge cake, 
and, havin occasion to go up stairs after something, I sot her 
to beaten tlie eggs. Wal, what do you think the critter 
done ? Why, she whisked ’em round a few times, and 
turned ’em right into the other ingrejiences that I’d got 
weighen out. When I come back and saw what she’d 
done, my gracious ! I came as nigh to losin my temper as 
ever I allow myself to come. ’Twas awful provokin ! I 
always want the kitchen help to do things as I want to have 
’em done. But I never saw a darkey yet that ever done 
anythin right. They’re a lazy slaughtering set. To think" 
o’ her spilin that cake, so, when I'd told her over and over 
again that I always made it a pint to have my eggs thoroughly 
beat!” 
“ Yes, it was too bad. Do you use fruit in the. pudding ? " 
“ Wal, that’s just as you please. You’d better be governed 
by your own judgment as to that. Some, like currents and 
some like raisins, and than agin some don’t like nary one. 
If you use raisins, for pity’s sake pick out the stuns. It’s 
awful to have a body's teeth come grindin on a raisin stun. 
I’d rather have my ears boxed at any time." 
“ How many raisins must I take?" 
“ Wal, not too many, it’s apt to make the pudden heavy, 
you know; and when it's heavy it aint so light and good. 
I’m a great hand—’’ 
“ Yes. What do you use for flavouring?” 
“There agin you’ll have to exercise your own judgment. 
Some like one thing, and some unother, you know. If you 
go the hull figger on temperance, why some other kind o’ 
fiavourin '11 do as well as wine or brandy, I 'spose. But, 
whatever you make up your mind to use, be particular to git 
in a sufficiency, or else your pudden ’ll be fiat. 1 always 
make it a pint—” 
“ How long must it bake ? ” 
“There’s the great thing, after all. The bakin’s the 
main pint. A potater pudden, of all puddens, has got to be 
