ng food, and for
warming the drinking water in winter. Nelson and I discussed the sketch
plan given below, and he found some fault with it. I would not be
dissuaded from my views, however, and Nelson had to yield. I was as
opinionated in those days as a theoretical amateur is apt to be; and it
was hard to give up my theories at the suggestion of a person who had
only experience to guide him. The best plan, as I have long since
learned, is to mix the two and use the solid substance that results from
their combination.

We located the site of the building, and talked plans until the low sun
of January 8th disappeared in the west. Then we adjourned to the sitting
room of the farm-house to finish the matter so far as was possible. An
hour and a half passed, and we were in fair accord, when Mrs. Thompson
came into the room to say that supper was ready, and to ask us to join
the men at table before starting homeward. I was glad of the
opportunity, for I was curious to know if Mrs. Thompson set a good
table. We went into the dining room just as the farm family was ready to
sit down. There were ten of us,--two women, six men, Nelson, and myself;
and as we sat down, I noticed with pleasure that each had evidently
taken some thought of the obligations which a table ought to impose. The
table was clothed in clean white, and there was a napkin at each plate.
Nelson and I had the only perfectly fresh ones, and this I took as
evidence that napkins were usual. The food was all on the table, and was
very satisfactory to look at. Thompson sat at one end, and before him,
on a great platter, lay two dozen or more pieces of fried salt pork,
crisp in their shells of browned flour, and fit for a king. On one side
of the platter was a heaping dish of steaming potatoes. A knife had
been drawn once around each, just to give it a chance to expand and show
mealy white between the gaping circles that covered its bulk. At the
other side was a boat of milk gravy, which had followed the pork into
the frying-pan and had come forth fit company for the boiled potatoes. I
went back forty years at one jump, and said,--

"I now renew my youth. Is there anything better under the sun than fried
salt pork and milk gravy? If there is, don't tell me of it, for I have
worshipped at this shrine for forty years, and my faith must not be
shaken."

Such a supper twice or thrice a week would warm the cockles of my old
heart; but Polly says, "No modern cook can mak