to the normal man is good eating, and if it
be true that real happiness consists in making others happy, the author
can at least feel a sense of gratification in the thought that his
attempts to satisfy the cravings of the inner man have not been wholly
unappreciated by the many that he has had the pleasure of serving--some
of whom are now his stanchest friends. In fact, it was in response to
the insistence and encouragement of these friends that he embarked in
the rather hazardous undertaking of offering this collection to a
discriminating public.

To snatch from his daily toil a few moments, here and there, in order to
arrange with some degree of symmetry, not the delicacies that would
awaken the jaded appetite of the gourmet, but to prepare an ensemble
that might, with equal grace, adorn the home table or banquet board, has
proven a task of no mean proportions. Encouraged by his friends,
however, he persevered and this volume is the results of his effort.

If, when gathered around the festal board, in camp or by fireside, on
train or ship, "trying out" the recipes, his friends will pause,
retrospectively, and with kindly feelings think from whence some of the
good things emanated, the author will feel amply compensated for the
care, the thought, the labor he has expended in the preparation of the
book; and to those friends, individually and collectively, it is
therefore dedicated.

SKETCH OF MY LIFE

I was born in Murray County, Tennessee, in 1857, a slave. I was given
the name of my master, D. J. Estes, who owned my mother's family,
consisting of seven boys and two girls, I being the youngest of the
family.

After the war broke out all the male slaves in the neighborhood for
miles around ran off and joined the "Yankees." This left us little folks
to bear the burdens. At the age of five I had to carry water from the
spring about a quarter of a mile from the house, drive the cows to and
from the pastures, mind the calves, gather chips, etc.

In 1867 my mother moved to Nashville, Tennessee, my grandmother's home,
where I attended one term of school. Two of my brothers were lost in the
war, a fact that wrecked my mother's health somewhat and I thought I
could be of better service to her and prolong her life by getting work.
When summer came I got work milking cows for some neighbors, for which I
got two dollars a month. I also carried hot dinners for the laborers in
the fields, for which each one paid me