A PAGE OF FUGITIVE VERSE. GATHERED HERE AND THERE.

IN THE NEST.

Gather them close to your loving heart,

Cradle them close to your breast;

They will soon enough leave your brooding care,

Soon enough mount youth's topmost stair,—
Little ones in the nest.

Fret not that the children's hearts are gay,
That their restless feet will run;
There may come a time in the by-and-by
When you'll sit in your lonely room and
sigh

For a sound of childish fun.

When you long for a reputation sweet,

That sounded through each room,

Of "Mother! mother!" the dear love calls, That will echo long through the silent halls, And add to their stately gloom.

There may come a time when you'll long to hear

The eager, boyish tread,

The tuneless whistle, the clear, shrill shout, The busy bustle in and out,

And pattering overhead.

When the boys and girls are all grown up,
And scattered far and wide,

Or gone to the undiscovered shore,
Where youth and age come never more,

You will miss them from your side.

Then gather them to your loving heart,
Cradle them on your breast,

They will soon enough leave your brooding care,

Soon enough mount youth's topmost stair,Little ones in the nest.

-Unidentified.

THE OLD FIREPLACE.

The blessed old fireplace! how bright it appears

As back to my boyhood I gaze,

O'er the desolate waste of the vanishing years,
From the gloom of these lone latter days;
Its lips are as ruddy, its heart is as warm,
To my fancy, to-night, as of yore,

When we cuddled around it, and smiled at the storm,

As it showed its white teeth at the door.

I remember the apple that wooed the red flame,

Till the blood bubbled out of its cheek;

I remember the steam from the ke tle that breathed

As soft as the flight of a soul,

The long-handled skillet that spluttered and seethed

With the batter that burdened its bowl;
I remember the rusty, identical nail,

Were the criminal pot-hooks were hung; The dragon faced andirons, the old cedar pail,

The gourd, and the peg where it swung.

But the fire has died out on the old cabin hearth,

The wind clatters loud through the pane, And the dwellers-they've flown to the ends of the earth,

And will gaze on it never again;

A forget-me-not grows in the mouldering

wall,

The last, as it were, of its race,

And the shadows of night settle down like a pall

On the stones of the old fireplace.

-Omaha World.

COMING HOME.
Adieu! is uttered with a sigh;

Farewell! we speak in pain;
We ever part with tearful eye ;
We may not meet again;
But O, there is a blissful word,

When breathed by those who roam, Which thrills with joy whenever heard. 'Tis coming, coming home!

'Tis sad to take the parting gaze
For long, long, weary years,

As onward through the gathering haze
The gallant bark careers.
But joy untold the bosom swells,
When o'er the dashing foam
We mark the whitening sail that tells
The loved are coming home!

We love to hear from those who pine
Upon a foreign strand;
There is a pleasure in each line
Traced by the well-known hand;
But O, the rapture of that hour,

When those beloved who roam
Have breathed those words of magic power :
I'm coming, coming home!

-Oliver Dyer.

AT THE FIRESIDE.

Around the hearth when raving storms and bitter winds do blow,

Till its heart split apart with a shriek;

I remember the Greeks and the Trojans who fought

In their shadowy shapes on the wall, And the yarn, in thick tangles, my fingers held taut,

While my mother was winding the ball.

I remember the cat that lay cozy and curled By the jamb, where the flames flickered high,

And the sparkles-the fireflies of winter-that whirled

Up the flue, as the wind whistled by;

I remember the bald-headed, bandy-legged tongs,

That frowned like a fiend in my face, In a fury of passion, repeating the wrongs, They had borne in the old fireplace.

shroud of whitest snow,

When closer to him doth his rags the shivering outcast draw,

Who dreams not of a single meal, and prays but for a thaw.

Pile on more logs, the brighter that our cheery hearth doth glow

The more our hearts shall warm to those who no such blessings know,

As hearth and home, and kith and kin, and love of humankind,

Poor wanderers, who on this earth no jot of joy can find.

Poor we may be, yet not so poor but that a penny fee

We have for such; and know, oh, Lord, we lend it unto Thee!

THE DEAR OLD SONGS OF HOME.
O, wheel sublime of tireless time,
Turn backward in your flight,
Ring out the chime in fairy rhyme
Of boyhood's music bright!

Like bells of joy outringing,
Those memories old are clinging,
Now faint, now near, again I hear,
In accents clear where'er I roam,
My mother sweetly singing,
Singing, sweetly singing,
The dear old songs of home.
Make me a boy, with boyhood's joy,
As in the days of old,
When ruddy blaze before our gaze
Went up in sparks of gold.

I see the kettle swinging,
The shadows round it clinging,
Till once again in sweet refrain,
On land or main, where'er I roam,
I hear my mother singing,
Singing, sweetly singing,
The dear old songs of home.

At set of sun, when day was done,
Like silver-chiming bells,

Rose on the air, with evening prayer,
The song we loved so well.

Still in my ear they're ringing,
And memories old are bringing,
Like gentle shower of boyhood's hour,
With subtle power, where'er I roam,
Of mother sweetly singing,
Singing, sweetly singing,
The dear old songs of home.
No time can blot this fragrant spot,
This chime of silver bells;
But oft my heart, with sudden start
The secret surely tells.

Then, 'mid the glad bells ringing,
With holy thoughts upspringing,
Now faint, then clear, again I hear
In accents dear, where'er I roam,
My mother sweetly singing,
Singing, sweetly singing,
The dear old songs of home.

-Chicago Current.

THE ETIQUETTE, ECONOMIES AND ETHICS OF THE HOME. IN TWENTY-SIX LESSON-CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER IV.-FURNITURE AND DECORATION.

I built a house in my youthful dreams

In a sunny and pleasant nook,

Where I might listen the whole day long

To the voice of the gurgling brook;

A cottage with wide and airy rooms

And broad and shining floors,-

A house with the hidden charms of home
And the freedom of out-of-doors.-Elizabeth Akers Allen.

AROLING these lines in a tender undertone, Dora stood by the window putting on her gloves before going over to the cottage. She made a dainty picture in the morning light with the curtains drawn back and the sashes open to admit the soft breeze. Dora had a habit of dressing in brown, and now she seemed to her husband, as he glanced over her rounded form and sparkling face, like a brown thrush a-quiver with hope and expectation. The glory of the spring-time had come upon the earth in one triumphant burst. When the great heart of nature sends its warm, magnetic current in quickened pulsations through the northern zone, earth blossoms at once into enchanting and varied beauty. All things glow and burn with vital life; even dry twigs and bushes unfold their leaflets of fairy green and fling abroad their banners to swell the universal festival. Waves of color run in rhythm across the fields and break, with glad notes of joy, into brilliant blossoming. The mysterious life expressed through these separate tones is only a portion of one mighty power which paints the wayside daisy and sparkles in suns and systems.

At such a time it was fitting that the new cottage should be finished and the new family established. Small was the home as became their means; permanent as became their characters; beautiful as became their tastes; simple as became their desires.

The cottage stood on a knoll sloping to the south and east and protected on the north by a grove of elms and maples. On the south and west were billowy undulations covered with verdure out of which peeped solitary houses and nestling hamlets, and beyond clustering roofs and spires hovered that trailing cloud-like banner which betokens the presence of a great city. Here and there, carved in deeper amethyst, a dome or turret or stately roof rose out of the indefinite line of the horizon, with which it yet softly blended in the dreamy distance.

The first beams of the morning gilded the eastern front and peeped through the railings of a wide and inviting piazza, with posts and railing very simply finished. It ran straight across the broad hallway, then took the shape of the shallow threesided bay-window which formed the entire parlor front as well as that of the chamber over it. Within, there were only four rooms on the ground floor, counting the hall as one. That was quite broad, having been planned for a sitting and reception-room except in very cold weather. Accordingly it was lighted by windows in each of the plain, massive, double doors, and one on the side near the foot of the easy stairway leading to the second floor.

On the left of the entrance double doors led into the parlor and thus, at will, both rooms could be thrown together, making the entire front of the house as one room. The wide stairs, broken by one landing, were not an inharmonious projection into the irregular space, and the whole made a beautiful double room, lighted from the north, east and south. "The ordinary hall has always seemed a cheerless place," said Dora to her Aunt Ruth, who remonstrated upon this waste of room. "Now it will be a delightful room during three-quarters of the year. I shall have a pretty wicker chair for you here, opposite the parlor door, and you will then have an outlook three ways, as well as into the sitting-room in the rear. With a little table at your right, on which you will always find a few books and GOOD HOUSEKEEPING, you will be able to watch both the prospect and your niece."

In the rear of hall and parlor, a large, oblong room running clear across them from north to south, was sitting and diningroom in one. A double window at each extremity allowed free circulation of air, and a china closet opened out of it on the side of the kitchen, without breaking into its shape. In regard to this room she had been advised to make two small ones instead, but Dora stoutly resisted. "I intend to have a generous-sized screen to cut off the view of the dining-room from the hall door, or to shut the table into one end of the room, so what is the use of a partition? It will be economy and it gives me one large, handsome room instead of two small unsatisfactory ones." And Dora carried her point.

The kitchen extended only half way across the dining-room, but it was fitted with every convenience. Standing by the stove Dora could reach the shallow pantry containing cooking dishes and pots and kettles, and close by was a high table and a chair which she could raise or lower at will. Here she expected to sit and prepare ingredients for cooking, roll out pastry, wash dishes, iron and do many things which generally produce aching backs and tired feet. Then there was a stationary table with leaves and drawers for aprons and towels and many a contrivance which had caused long conferences between Dora, her mother and the builder. Among them was an adjustable spout to convey water from the pump beside the sink to the kettles upon the stove. For ordinary warm weather use, Dora intended to rely on an oil stove which already stood near the closets upon its own firm table.

In the second story there were three good sized sleeping rooms besides a dressing-room which might hold a camp bed in emergency, plenty of closets and a store-room so dear to the heart of the genuine housewife. There was also a bath-room provided with every convenience. Windows and doors were so arranged as to let the bedstead out from the wall, to allow free circulation of air. In her own chamber two single folding beds, side by side, were provided, each with woven wire mattresses and so constructed as to permit perfect ventilation. Dora had become thoroughly imbued with the belief that it was very unwholesome for any two persons to sleep together. This was learned from Mrs. Porter, who, years before, had been alarmed at seeing a bright boy of three years pine and dwindle away without any apparent cause. To their family physician the case seemed obscure until he learned that Henry slept with his grandmother who was devotedly attached to him. Thinking this might account for the child's illness he ordered a single bed for the little patient, who, thereupon, began to recover at once. After this lesson the Porters gradually made such arrangements that each member of the family had a single bed, though not all could have a separate room, which would be better still.

Mrs. Porter learned afterward, what her experience corroborated, that anæmia and many nervous weaknesses are often due to the cause that depleted little Harry. One person is more weary than the other occupant of the chamber, or requires more clothing or there are subtle exhalations which act like a slow poison, or all together, making Mrs. Porter's habits of sleeping those which ought generally to prevail.

But to return to the first floor of the cottage, where Dora's furniture had already been unpacked and which she was arranging. The wood work was all white pine, rubbed and varnished, and the floors of the same material, selected, seasoned and shellacked with care. David, who had looked after the work when time permitted, was faithfulness itself in his own profession and exacted honest work from others, often quoting Ruskin's dictum that, "Nobody wants ornaments in this world, but everybody wants integrity. All the fair devices that were ever fancied are not worth a lie." And no one seeing this beautiful wood in its natural tint could have thought paint in any way comparable. In the selection of pine, David had been chiefly guided by economy; otherwise he might have used cherry, butternut, ash, yellow pine, cedar or black walnut, which owes its value more to fashion than to merit or beauty, or any two contrasting woods combined. Mahogany and ebony are not unfrequently seen in mansions of which the inmates are millionaires, but these are no more beautiful than cherry, for instance, or the heart of butternut. The one little extravagance in which our young friends had indulged occurred in finishing the parlor with California redwood, a material not only having a warm, beautiful color, but one less expensive than cherry, which it somewhat resembles. Out of it was made the mantel and the small shelves or brackets surmounting it on either side of an oblong beveled mirror in the center, all being simple in design. The fire-place itself, constructed to hold either wood or coal, and the hearth, were set with small lozenge-shaped tile according in color with the red wood.

After the lumber was dressed for use, Dora, who had watched every detail of the house growing up like an organic growth, selected two of the largest and handsomest boards and directed they should be laid one side. Desiring to impress her own individuality and taste on everything, she called a cabinet maker into her counsel who succeeded, by means of rough drawings, in carrying out her designs in the evolution of two tables for the parlor. The larger, thirty-two inches square at the top and twenty-nine high, jutted out over the frame five inches on all sides. The legs were handsomely

turned and attached to them. One foot from the floor was a shelf just fitting to the interspace. This center table proved so satisfactory that she had the second table like it except that it was both longer and narrower. From the pieces left they designed a corner etagére, a yard and a quarter high and having three shelves beside the top, with small turned legs. No other tables were needed for the parlor, but a square one was provided for the hall.

To the astonishment of their friends, David and Dora had the entire walls of the lower floor-except those of the kitchen, which were smooth finished and painted a light gray-finished in rough plaster. In the parlor and hall they were painted in oil a solid tint of dull robin's-egg blue to within eighteen inches of the ceiling, which had neither cone nor raised piece in the center. Only separated from the wall-color by a very narrow black band and gilt moulding stretched the frieze, a solid tint of rich terra cotta only a little lighter than the red wood. These lines of gilt and black brought out and enlivened the coloring on either side in a wonderful degree, the more so that no other gilding was seen in the room except upon picture frames. For Dora discarded the gaudy and showy for that simple and effective beauty which grows upon the observer day by day. She determined that the walls should be foils for paintings, etchings, bronzes or other decorative objects, and backgrounds for guests, heightening the effect while not obtrusive in themselves. The most home-like rooms are such as these when fitted up with corresponding tastefulness.

In the choice of coloring, Dora had hesitated between several combinations, such as sage green and salmon, olive and russet, but fixed upon these two because they were not so common as the others, and because they allowed of great latitude in furnishing. A very light tint of the terra cotta, hardly more than a cream, finished the ceiling.

Taking a bit of the wall color as a guide Dora sought for carpeting to match, determining to have one large central Oriental rug and several smaller ones about the room as soon as they could afford to gratify their tastes. Selecting a piece in robin's egg blue six shades deeper than the wall, she ordered it made rug-fashion, two feet less than the size of the room on every side. In it and also in the bordering were small intermediate figures of wine and amber, also in the dado of the hangings on the ground of deep dull blue. The advantages of this mode of carpeting on the ground of cleanliness, comfort and artistic beauty are too well known to need explanation. They are the carpets of the future.

Of course the flooring had been specially prepared for rugs. Had it been hard wood, a simple coat of "wood filling" and then a varnish of white shellac would be enough, unless it were oiled and varnished. As it was white pine, the painter had stained the floor with a mixture of equal portions of crude oil and turpentine, a cupful of "dryer" and a trifle of burnt sienna, experimenting to see when the color was sufficiently deep. When dried and coated with a varnish of "orange shellac," nothing could have been more pleasant to the eye. An old broom in a cotton bag or a long handled soft brush served to keep the floor margins free from dust. The same preparation applied to the flooring throughout the house, without stain or with the merest trifle, made tints lighter, almost as agreeable, and less liable to show dust.

Carrying out her desire to have the furnishings harmonize with the room, Dora had a sofa and variety of chairs covered with mixed Persian stuff reproducing the tints of the carpet, and of black rattan with cushions of terra cotta plush. The beauty of the room consisted in the perfection of its harmonies and contrasts and the exquisite taste in its few decorations. These were a brilliant water color on a small easel in a dusky corner which lighted it up with a splendor like that

of the sunset which it simulated, some etchings on the walls whose artistic merit made them a "joy forever," a fine head of Antinous in bronze, some choice bits of porcelain upon the mantle and its shelves and a scarf of fine embroidery in wine and gold flung over the cottage piano. A little, and that perfect in form and coloring, all else rigidly rejected no matter how costly, was a part of her æsthetic creed. Having seen many examples of parlors furnished by housekeepers having more wealth than culture, in which a profusion of showy decorations, much gilding and gaudiness took the place of quiet elegance, the young wife determined not to overdo at the beginning.

The hall was finished like the parlor since they were to be used so much together; otherwise she would have had a dado of Japanese matting held in place by paneling and a railing of red wood. Sometime they hoped to have a parlor added to the house on the other side of the hall. Unfortunate is that young couple which begins housekeeping with nothing to look forward to! A house bought or built outright, handsomely fitted with every luxury, gives no opportunity for contrivance, economy and forethought. Nature intended us to grow into things and not find them ready made, since thereby comes growth of experience and character.

The chambers were furnished simply. On Dora's bedstead, bureau and commode which were painted cream color, she stenciled conventionalized wild roses arranged in artistic confusion, a cluster here, a single bud and blossom there. The dull blue-gray walls well brought out the soft tints of blossoms and the brown of the vines. The same motif carried out in the cretonne window drapery, in the cushions of the wicker chairs, in the outline embroidery of toilet cover and in the stenciled freize where an occasional wild rose straggled out of line upon ceiling or wall, made the room a perfect bower of her favorite flower. Over a low toilet mirror she painted

GATHER ROSEBUDS WHILE Ye May,

and on its sides, irregularly disposed,

O the deliciousness of the fresh season,
Red roses, white roses, roses past reason.

The guest chamber in olive and cream was a daisy room, with motto: Wee little rimless wheel of fate,

Like hope thou spring'st in every spot. In experimenting with her brush Dora found that certain colors "loved one another," as she expressed it, like cream and chocolate, or maroon, dull blue or bronze green. In a dark room walls of low toned yellow-orange with trimmings of deep purplish red, in a light room olive and citrine or russet harmonized, not only in color but in certain proportions of each. Seeking the key to these proportions, Dora found that certain French artists had demonstrated the laws which govern them and that they were understood either by intuition or study, by the best decorators and furnishers. The right colors may be combined yet the effect will not be artistic unless they are used in the proper respective quantities.

For instance, white light is composed of the three primaries in the proportion of three atoms of yellow to five of red and eight of blue. Now the equivalents of all perfect contrasts or perfect groups of these colors will be either the sum of these sixteen, or a multiple of that number. And a trained eye will readily detect, on entering a room, an approximation to this rule or a violation of it. That is, when three parts of yellow are used, to balance its brilliance there should be about five parts of red and eight of blue, as much in quantity as the red and yellow together. Otherwise the rooms appear gaudy or produce an unpleasaat impression.

But these three primaries can be used only in very small quantities save by those of barbaric tastes. An artistic eye

delights in secondaries and tertiaries so mingled that the general effect is that of subtle and reposeful beauty.

It is a canon of good taste, also, that either of the primaries should be used alone or with white, gold and blacks. The secondaries, green, purple and orange, need the presence of their complementaries or the colors in which they are lacking. Thus green calls for the presence of red, the other primary, but is balanced by a little less than half its own measure. More than this produces discord, less leaves want. In like manner eight parts of purple need only three of yellow, or less than one third as much.

The tertiary colors called neutrals, formed by the secondaries with a small measure of each of the primaries, making olive, citrine and russet are safe to use in large masses in house decoration. They are cousins to each other and have no family quarrels. Racinet, whose authority is regarded as final, gives the following scale of color and proportion: Primaries, Yellow 3, Red 5, Blue 8. Secondaries, Orange 8, Green 11, Purple 13.

They are contrasted in perfection only thus: Yellow 3 parts to Purple 13 parts; Yellow Orange 11, Purple Blue 21; Orange 8, Blue 8; Orange Red 13, Blue Green 19; Red 5, Green 11; Red Purple 18, Green Yellow 14.

In experimenting Dora soon saw that the quick eye of any woman having an interest in harmony of tints can apply these rules sufficiently close to make her rooms charming to a sensitive eye.

The neutrals or tertiaries are thus related to each other: 8 parts Orange and 11 Green, equals Citrine, 19; 8 parts Orange, 13 Purple, equals Russet, 21; 11 parts Green, 13 Purple, equals Olive, 24.

The complementaries of these are easily produced from the primary colors lacking in each. They are: Citrine against purple, shading to red or olive; russet against green and olive against orange, shading either to russet or citrine. Where the primaries are used in addition it can only be in very small lines or figures, as in picture frames and mouldings, the color of the cove, an arabesque in a carpet figure or the border of a hanging or a vivid scarf from mantel or chair back. Something to glorify and illuminate the whole room like a pencil of morning sunshine aglow with aerial gold or the reflection of the sunset's crimson Splendor, this is always needed in an accessory that can be removed and replaced at will. Happy be the housekeeper if these rich tints are supplied in pictures of oil or water colors from the easel of some poet of the brush, who sings in rhythmic tints of life and joy and hope and beauty, in melodies transfixed forever by his

noble art!

walls of their dining room citrine with trimmings of russet and some little stencilings of olive in order to use all the tertiaries. They were pleased with the result. -Hester M. Poole.

In order to test these rules Dora and David tinted the

Original in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

BABY JOE'S PHILOSOPHY.
Our Benny's new skates are a treasure,-
Patent clamped, nickel-plated, and bright.
Old Santa knew what would give pleasure
When he filled Benny's stocking that night.
Benny keeps them quite dry, and well polished
With chamois and pumice and oil.
Baby Joe watches all, much astonished;

Ben explains: "Lest they rust, Joe, and spoil."
Baby Joe in the air, keen and wintry,

With breath wreathed in clouds by the frost,
Cries; "My lips! Dry them quick, Brudder Benny,
Tause, you know, if you don't, dey will wust!"

-Josephine C. Goodale.

Origi al in GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S CAKES. WITH DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING AND BAKING THEM.

currants.

TO WASH AND CLEAN CURRANTS.

Do not attempt to wash more than a pound at a time. I mean, if you have several pounds to do, put about that quantity in water at once, place the colander in a large pan of warm water, pour the currants into the colander, break up all the lumps with your hands, and stir them about the water well, raising the colander now and then. Pour off this dirty water, and add fresh warm water; rub the currants between the palms, and rinse by lifting the colander up and down. Change the water until it is no longer soiled, but only reddish from the fruit; then take the colander out of the water, press the currants to get all the moisture you can from them, and, if you have others to do, throw these clean ones on a folded cloth to drain; if not, press the currants between a coarse cloth, then turn them into a sieve-if you have it; if not, a flat dripping-pan-and set them in a warm place to dry, over the register or behind a stove. When dry, let them cool; then rub again in a cloth, which will remove many of the stems (all cannot be removed). Now search them over carefully for stones. Taking a few at a time on the hand is the quickest way. The water in which currants are washed must be warm, or it will not dissolve the sugar that holds the currants and dirt together; but it must not be hot, or it will take the flavor from the fruit.

TO SEED RAISINS.

It is cheaper to buy new, plump raisins, at a higher price, than old candied ones, as there is less waste. Have a bowl of tepid water on your right hand, a damp, coarse cloth spread on the table before you, the raisins on your left hand, and the bowl to receive them, when seeded, in front. The bowl of water is only to dip your fingers in occasionally; if the latter are too sticky after the seeds are removed, they will cling to your hand and go into the bowl with the seeded raisin. Squeeze the raisins between thumb and finger, and remove the stones you find with a small knife. Some prefer to split them; do which you find quickest. Put the stones on the damp cloth as you remove them, and shake it before there are too many, or they will also cling to your fingers, and pass to the bowl

with the seeded fruit.

Sultana raisins are cleaned as currants.

TO BLANCH ALMONDS.

This is a very simple process. Either put the almonds in a saucepan, pour cold water on them, and let them just boil, or else put them in a bowl and pour quite boiling water on them. Whichever you do, the skins will be loose and slip off easily when squeezed between a coarse cloth. As you do them, drop them into cold water, which keeps them from oiling or becoming discolored. When all are done, dry them in a cloth and then in a cool oven or over a register. They will keep a long time if properly dried.

CITRON

Should be cut small-that is, in pieces not over half an inch square and a quarter inch thick. Candied lemon or orange peels should be treated in the same way.

Old-Fashioned Yuletide Cake.

Put one pound of butter in a pan to warm (not melt), and a pound

until they are like hard sauce; add, one by one (beating well between each), the yolks of ten eggs, a tablespoonful of powdered cinnamon, and one of allspice. Beat the whites of the eggs until they will not slip from the dish; add these by degrees with a pound and a half of fine, dry flour, slightly warmed. Make all into a smooth paste with two port wineglassfuls of brandy (one gill). Have ready (warmed, dried, and floured) two pounds of currants, two ounces of almonds (blanched and cut into four pieces), and one pound of citron. These are to be gently stirred into the batter, which will be very thick. Bake four hours in a slow oven; the first two covered with cardboard.

The cake pan must be lined with buttered paper, and great care taken that it may not burn. No yeast or baking-powder is required in these rich cakes, or any in cake wetted with eggs without milk. Yule cake is very old-fashioned, and many may prefer to use a nutmeg instead of allspice.

Christmas Cake.

One pound each of almonds, raisins, currants, brown sugar, butter and flour, one-half pound of citron, one-half pound of candied lemon peel (or one pound of citron and the grated rind of two lemons), ten eggs, two tablespoonfuls of rose-water, a wineglassfui of brandy and one of sherry or Madeira, and one nutmeg. Beat the butter and sugar to a cream, then one egg; beat two minutes by the clock; then another egg, and so on, beating two minutes between each egg until the whole ten are used; then stir in the flavoring (grated nutmeg, brandy, and rose-water), and sift in the flour, which must be dried (before weighing) and warmed. This should now be a thick cake batter (if the eggs are very large, one may be omitted); stir in the fruit, floured and warmed. Bake four hours very slowly in a round pan, not over three inches deep (it will make two medium-sized loaves, if preferred), and lined with buttered paper. For the first hour the cake should hardly begin to cook, but only melt down.

This kind of cake rises very little compared to plainer ones, and should always have a perfectly level surface, without crack or break, when baked; if they do crack, the oven has been too quick. Any one who has observed the rich fruit cake at fine confectioners' will remember the perfectly level sides and top. A hoop for baking rich cakes is not absolutely necessary, but the cake cuts and looks better baked in a hoop.

New Year's Cake (German).

Sift ten ounces of flour into a bowl; weigh one-half pound of powdered sugar, two ounces of candied citron, one-fourth pound of sultana raisins, and one-half pound of butter. You need, beside these, four eggs and one lemon. Beat the butter (washed and squeezed dry) to a cream with your hand; add to it a tablespoonful of flour, one of sugar, and one egg. Mix thoroughly, and then go on in the same way, using the materials gradually until they are all in. Grate the lemon, and add the fruit, warmed and floured; line a pan with buttered paper, using two thicknesses at the bottom. Bake in a moderate oven two hours; covered the first hour.

These three cakes will keep in a tin box a twelvemonth. To those unaccustomed to making rich cake, I would say: the whole secret lies in the baking. The oven must be very slow (220 degrees by the thermometer). They must not be shaken, but turned very gently, and, when taken from the oven, allowed to remain till cool before they are removed from the pan.