The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-11-19
Lessons in Cookery.
Housework and Angel Food" as Ex-
pounded by an Adept in the Art of Max
ing Home Happy.
Detroit Post.0

(Detrolt Poet)
Miss Cicely Jones is just home from board
ing school, and engaged to be married, and as
she knows nothing about cooking or house
work, is going to take few lessons iu culina-
ry art to fit her for the new station in life
which she is expected to adorn with house
wifely grace. She certainly makes charm
ing picture as she stands in the kitchen door,
draped in chintz apron, prettily trimmed
with bows of ribbon, her bangs hidden under
Dolly Warden cap, and her dimpled white
hands encased in old kid gloves, while she
sways to and fro on her dainty French kid
heels, like some graceful wind-blown flower.
Mamma" she lisped prettily, please intro
duce me to your ASSISTANT
Whereupon mamma says: Bridget, this
young lady, Miss Cicely, who wants to learn
the name and use of everything in the kitchen
and how to make cocoanut rusks and angels
food before she goes to housekeeping for her.
SELF"
Bridget gives snort of disfavor but as she
looks at the young lady, relents and says, I'm
throy."
And now, Bridget DEAR" says Miss Cieely.
when they are alone, "tell me everything You
see; don't know anything except what they
did at school, and isn't this old kitchen love
ly? What makes this ceiling such a beautiful
bronze color, Bridget"
.'Shmoke," answers Bridget shortly, ''and
me ould eyes are put out wild that same.'
"Shmoke-I must remember that and
Bridget, what are those shiny things on the
wall?'
"Kivers-tin kivers for the pots and kittles"
'Kivers?-oh, yes, 1 must look for the deri-
walton OF that word. Bridget what are those
round things in that basket?''
"Praties (For the Lords sHke, where hez We
lived never to hear of pratic5O Why them's
the principal meat of ireland where / kim
from"
"Oh, but we have corrupted the name into
potatoes; such shame not to keep the idiom
OF language. Bridget-do you mind if call
you Biddie?-it is more euphonious and mod
ernizes the old classic appellation. What is
this liquid i'm the pan, here?s.'
"oeh murderl Where wuz yez raised? That
is miicS, fresh from the cow
NH lick, that is the yernacular, suppose,
of milk, and that thick, yellow coating?"
"Is crane. Uord, such ignorance.)
"Crame! Now, Biddie dear, l must get to
work. I'm going to make a cake all out of my
own head for Henry-he's my lover, Biddie-
to eat when he comes tonight"
Bridget. aside-"it's dead he is, sure thin, if
he ates it!'
"I've got it all down here, Biddie, on my
tablet: A pound of butter, twenty eggs, two
pOuuuS Ol sugar, SAIL 10 your taste. NO, tnatS
a mistake Oh, here it is. Now Biddie, the
eggs first. 1t says to beat-them we'll; but
wont that break the shels?"
"Well, I'd break thin this time, if were
you, Miss Cicely; they might not set we'll on
Mr.. Henry's stummach ef ye didn't" said
Bridget pleasantly.
"Oh, suppose the shells are used separate
ly. There! I've broken all the eggs into the
flour. 1 don't think I'll use the shells, Bid
die; give them to some poor people. Now
what next? Oh, Pm so tired Isn't house.
keeping dreadful hard? Pm so glad I've
learned to make cake. Now what shall do
next, Biddie?"
Excuse me, Miss Cicely, but you moight
give it to the pigs. It's meself can't see any
other use for it." said Bridget crustily.
"Pigsl Oh, Biddiel You don't mean to say
that you have some dear, cunning little white
pigs! Oh, do bring the little darlings in and
let me feed them. I'm just dying to have one
for pet. L saw some canton flannel ones
once at a fair, and they were just too awfully
sweet for anything"
just then the door bell rang, and Bridget re-
turned to announce Mr. Heffry and CiceIy told
Bridget she would take another lesson the
next day, and then she went up stairs n her
chintz apron and mob cap. with little dab of
flour on her tip-lifted nose, and told Henry
she was learning to cook, and he told her she
must not get over-heated or worried out for he
didn't care whether she could cook or not he
should never want to eat when he could talk
to her. and 1t was only sordid souls that cared
for cooking,
And meanwhile poor Bridget was Just slam
ming things in the kitchen, and talking to her.
self in her own sweet idiom about "idgits
turning things upside down for her inconvan-
| encing."