Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-12-23


the same Is true Of
the poet. But, given
these conditions, and ninety-nine persons
out OF hundred can produce nothing be-
yond the conventionally good dinner which
the hungry may eat with satisfaction, and.
with reasonable prudence, escape harm.
The hundredth does something more. The
dishes need not be numerous nor very ex-
penstve, but there Is about them that subtle
Intangible and altogether delightful quality
which In literature and art we call genius
A poem Ii but an aggregation and arrange
ment Of entirely arbitrary signs. standing
for equally arbitrary and unmeaning
sounds. which In turn are symbols Of crude
and ill-deflned ideas; and yet how charming
Is the possible result.
Mrs. Appleby was that hundredth. Her
opportunities were. indeed. not very wide
nor her fame extended. To her table came
only such things as are within the reach Of
people Of moderate means. But whether In
the cooking Of a steak, the baking of bread,
the preparation Of cakes and pastry, the
bric-a-brac, SO to speak. Of cookery, she
touched nothing that she did not adorn.
Nevertheless, like other artists she had
her specialties. Although everything was
excellent. not everything was superlative
4uc lOlllcSl ukOuhldlu range uOcS NV hioAAA
tain a uniform height throughout its extent
but here and there pushes up above its fell
lows some sublime peak. clothed in spot
less purity and lighted with the splendors OF
the sky. In some such way rose conspic-
uous above the high level-shall say table,
land? of culinary success her pumpkin
pies. Into their perfectness there entered
not merely good country milk. but actual
cream without stint eggs Of absolute fresh
ness, rich, smooth, delicious pumpkin In
felicitous union, all etherealized by the most
consummate blending of spicy aromas. IL
was held in a worthy setting. For It's be-
ginning there was. Of course, the nnest OF
the wheat. l am told that there was laro
In it, but one not in the secrets OF cookery
would not have suspected anything SO gross
in so fine a creation. Light, reathery, iaky,
1t seemed rather q sea-foam, arrested anu
semi-solidified by some spell. just lahsiote
enough to be nodded into fairy cup tlli'
fixed by the alchemy of fire, with its am.
brosial mixture it should emerge thlng OF
beauty and desire. As for! the coi0r-on,
call them not pies, but pictures. Where
could you match the golden brown. way;
finely wrinkled skins save III sohe oiu
Flemish painting.
But as a preliminary to the masterPieGe
of high culinary art, this Kitchen lyric
you please, 1t was necessary nrst 70 ca.ch
the pumpkin. This had always, to be sure
been very easy for Mrs. Appleby. The prop.
lem had been what disposition to make of
the very surfeit Of good things which her
own orchards. garden and neid iurnlsneo
for her table. For her great creation moth
ing would answer but the good. old fashion
ed Connecticut field-pumpkin. As to those
substitutes to which people OF lower Ideals
sometimes resort. sQuashes. however excei-
lent for other uses. sweet pumpkins, Gao
haws, sweet potatoes, and-heaven help us!-
even Irish potatoes, she held them In utter
contempt.
But there came time when these condi-
tions were greatly changed. 1t was the ex-
Quisite irony Of fate that Mr.. A. should be
rewarded" for some partisan service by a
small appointment at the seat of govern
which they had lived with great comfort.
the salary seemed quite munificent. They
had always classed themselves with poor
people," but their views OF wealth and pow
erty were destined to speedy change.
So their roomy, comfortable old house.
with its lawns, its great shade trees and its
flowers, gave place to the narrow city house.
whose very breath seemed squeezed out OF
1t by larger and taller neighbors. 1t was
"cozy," convenient, with all modern i'm
provements; a beautiful house." the agent
declared but 1t seemed little queer. The
city Of magnificent distances Is, In TACT
built up in blocks like other cities. There
are a few, very few exceptions, where the
older citizens have retained lawns and even
small gardens; but for the most part even
the wealthy must content themselves with
q little strip of grass between their houses
and the street, euphemistically called park
Ing" The Applebys had in front morsel
Of ground about as big as large news
paper of the fashion Of some years ago. At
the back was similar bit, over which an
ambitious asphalt walk had attempted to
spread itself. The little remnant lent itself
passively to few turfs of downtrodden and
detected grass What with the neighboring
houses and the high board fence. the sun.
which does not shine every day in Wash
ington, made only occasional and brief
visits in the middle of the day.
There are few ills that cannot be cured
The satisfactions of life pretty much all
come from a harmonious adjustment or peo-
pie to their surroundings.
There were. indeed, many compensations
for their losses. Washington is a beautiful
city, and no one lives in it long without
feeling the subtle fascination Of its life. If
the Applebys did not realize all their ex-
pectations, they appreciated their advant-
ages and made no complaints. 1t was only
on festal occasions that remembered joys
awakened an active regret.
The first Thanksgiving was something OF
a trial. Although the city markets would
furnish an abundance of good things a
pumpkin-explain it as you will-at which
a well-bred northern cow would give q Sec
ond glance Is not to be had for love or
money. Mrs. A. could not debase her art
and could not wholly ignore the character
Of the day. Like most things at the capital,
her dinner was sort of a compromise.
Most excellent 1t was, truly, and wholly
Satisfactory IL tney cOulQ nave 1OrSOtten
the past: but for the first time in her mar
ried life, upon such an occasion, the crown
ing glory and attraction of her table was
wanting. They ate with gratitude, but un-
wonted solemnity. 1t was almost like the
pathetic bravery of Christmas games and
songs and the weeping that followed, de-
scribed by the Laureate. No one voiced
the thought that haunted them ALL but Mr.
A. dropped the apparently casual remark:
II think, my dear, that next fall l will
have some fruits and vegetables sent from
our old place."
In the following spring, moved by an in
eradicable instinct, Mrs. Appleby insisted
on having little ribbon of ground next the
fence dug up.and here she placed few such
flowers as held out faint promise Of sur
viving the shade. How it happened will
never be known. as she is perfectly certain
that she did not plant 1t; but among the
pallid. consumptive-looking flowers there
appeared one day the cheerful, familiar
face of an old friend. There were the two
cotyledons and the seed balanced aloft in
the well-remembered way. The particular
variety of the Melo pepo to which it be-
longed was uncertain, but If there had been
a doubt as to the species, the prompt ad-
vent of that vexatous little pest the CAL
eruca Vittatii, better known as the cucum-
Der bug, would have settled it. His coming
was mysterious as that of the pumpkin
L suppose that If this had been terminate
in flower pot on shipboard in mid-ocean,
he would have been on hand as usual when
the tiny leaf1et first lifted the soil He
succumbed. however, to an application of
thumb and finger, and in spite of all draw
backs the plant grew until in its turn it
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