work wonders, even with the roughest Emerald that ever crossed
the sea.

I have said somewhere else that you must beware of attempting too much
at once; perfect yourself in one thing before you attempt another. Take
breaded chops or fried oysters, make opportunities for having them
rather often, and do not rest satisfied until you have them as well
fried as you have ever seen them anywhere; "practice makes perfect," and
you certainly will achieve perfection if you are not discouraged by one
failure. But above all things never make experiments for company; let
them be made when it really matters little whether you succeed or not,
and let your experiments be on a _small_ scale; don't attempt to fry a
_large_ dish of oysters or chops until it is a very easy task, or make
more than half a pound of puff paste at first; for if you fail with a
large task before you, you will be tired and disheartened, hate the
sight of what you are doing, and, as a consequence, not be likely to
return to it very soon. The same may be said of cooks; some of them are
very fond of experiments, which taste I should always encourage; but do
not let them jump from one experiment to the other; if they try a dish
and fail, they often make up their minds that the fault is not theirs,
that it is not worth while to "bother" with it. Here your knowledge will
be of service; you will show them that it can be done, how it should be
done, and order the dish cook failed in, frequently, giving it
sufficient surveillance to prevent your family suffering from her
inexperience; for, as a witty Frenchman said of Mme. du Deffaud's cook,
"Between her and Brinvilliers there is only the difference of
intention."

Few things add more to a man or woman's social reputation than the fact
that they keep a good table. It need not be one where

"The strong table groans
Beneath the smoking sirloin stretched immense;"

but a table where whatever you do have will be good, be it pork and
beans, or salmi; the pork and beans would satisfy a Bostonian, the salmi
Grimod de la Reyniere himself. I do not admit with Di Walcott that

"The turnpike road to people's hearts I find
Lies through their mouths, or I mistake mankind."

But it is a fact that good living--by this I do not mean extravagant
living--presupposes good breeding. Well-bred people sometimes live
badly; but ill-bred people seldom or ever live well, in the right sense
of the term.

Now,