t wholly at
the mercy of one's instinct, and may be ruled by a tact as delicate as
that which conducts a drawing-room.

But we are quite curious to learn, M., if your excellent companion has
yet been away from home so long that you have had to go to market. And
can you wisely discern roasts, steaks, and fowl? Says one, "The way to
select fowl is first to select your butcher"; and away he swings out of
intelligence and responsibility with a magnificent air. A lady friend
has this charming fashion of frankness: "Now, Mr. ----, I don't know one
piece of meat from another, and shall expect you to give me the best";
thus throwing herself directly on her faith and fascinations. But these
might grow jejune, nor is it safe to trust the tender mercies of a
butcher. Better know what you want, and know if you get it. Therefore
you will study the anatomy of animals, as laid down in all modern
cook-books. But really it is a little perplexing. I confess I am near
concluding that every beef creature is a special creation; for one never
finds the same joint twice, and apparently the only things common to all
are tongue and liver.

Not long since, having a discussion at the market with an elderly
gentleman, he said something pleasant which must be written for the
husband of a young housekeeper. We agreed that a rump steak was of more
uniform richness than a sirloin, the best of the latter being only that
luscious strip underlying the bone. "But," added the kindly man, "I
always buy the sirloin, because I give that juicy scrap to my wife." It
is worth while, M., to be wedded to the thoughtful heart, who, after
forty years, yet wills to give one the single choice bit from the table.

Aside from the ordinary beef-routine, there is another dish which is
usually popular. Select a cheap, lean piece of beef, weighing two or
three pounds, put it on the stove in cold water soon after breakfast,
boiling gently. Half an hour before dinner add a small onion, a sliced
parsnip and carrot, a few bits of turnip, and a half-dozen dumplings.
When these are done, remove them; season and thicken, serving a dumpling
with meat and vegetables to each plate of stew. This may be rather
plebeian, but is certainly palatable,--unless there be choice company to
dine. We might call it Rainy-Day Stew.

But the toothsome time for beef-eaters was undoubtedly in the days of
pleuro-pneumonia. Then the frightened public fled from beef as from the
plague, and all the b