of the savory succotash, an Indian
gift to the table for which civilization need not blush; sliced
egg-plant in delicate fritters; and marrow squashes, of creamy pulp
and sweetness: a rich variety, embarrassing to the appetite, and
perplexing to the choice. Verily, the thought has often impressed
itself on my mind that the vegetarian doctrine preached in America
left a man quite as much as he had capacity to eat or enjoy, and that
in the midst of such tantalizing abundance he really lost the apology
which elsewhere bears him out in preying upon his less gifted and
accomplished animal neighbors.

But with all this, the American table, taken as a whole, is inferior
to that of England or France. It presents a fine abundance of
material, carelessly and poorly treated. The management of food is
nowhere in the world, perhaps, more slovenly and wasteful. Everything
betokens that want of care that waits on abundance; there are great
capabilities and poor execution. A tourist through England can seldom
fail, at the quietest country inn, of finding himself served with the
essentials of English table comfort,--his mutton-chop done to a turn,
his steaming little private apparatus for concocting his own tea, his
choice pot of marmalade or slice of cold ham, and his delicate rolls
and creamy butter, all served with care and neatness. In France, one
never asks in vain for delicious _cafe-au-lait_, good bread and
butter, a nice omelet, or some savory little portion of meat with a
French name. But to a tourist taking like chance in American country
fare, what is the prospect? What is the coffee? what the tea? and the
meat? and, above all, the butter?

In lecturing on cookery, as on housebuilding, I divide the subject
into, not four, but five grand elements: first, Bread; second, Butter;
third, Meat; fourth, Vegetables; and fifth, Tea,--by which I mean,
generically, all sorts of warm, comfortable drinks served out in
teacups, whether they be called tea, coffee, chocolate, broma, or what
not.

I affirm that, if these five departments are all perfect, the great
ends of domestic cookery are answered, so far as the comfort and
well-being of life are concerned. I am aware that there exists another
department, which is often regarded by culinary amateurs and young
aspirants as the higher branch and very collegiate course of practical
cookery; to wit, confectionery, by which I mean to designate all
pleasing and complicated compounds of swe