COSY CORNER CLUB. IN FASHION’S REALM. HOME INTERESTS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3714, 19 May 1925, Page 58

COSY CORNER CLUB.

IN FASHION’S REALM.

HOME INTERESTS.

FIRST (MEMBERS) MEETING. Dear Comrades of the Cosy Corner,— The 1926 session of the club opens with a good muster of members, and the circle will be pleased to welcome two new recruits, Running Water and Orlando. One or two contributors have sent and the original contributions show a great variety of subject and treatment. The quality, however, on the whole, falls short of the standard usually attained a few years ago,. But perhaps a few more papers may yet come in which will raise the literary quality of the entertainment provided. I would like all contributors to do their powers full justice; the lesa experienced they are in writing the more need is there to take time and revise their work. And may I ask all to endeavour to write legibly, and to use sufficiently black or dark ink. Some contributors are excellent writers, but the writing of tw> or three—partly owing to the use of too thin ink—is hard to read. Some contributions are oidedly over the length, while others have b en kept very well within it. Please, contributors, do the condensing yourselves, and don’t leave it to me. I thank several members for kind private letters, and to all members, old and new, I extend hearty greetings. I will let Buena Vista’s well-chosen extract (the earliest contribution received) open the meeting. ESTHER. FAMOUS LINES FROM KEATS. Dear Esther, —My contribution to your pago is an extract from “Endymion,” by John Keats, the Poet of Beauty: "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever; Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness, but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures of the gloomy days, Of all’the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways Made for our searching: Yes, inspite of all Some shape of beauty moves away the paii From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make ’Gainst tho hot season ; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms; And such, too, is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read; And endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring into us from the heaven’s brink. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us 60 fast That, whether there be shine or gloom o’ercast, They always must be with us, or we die.” BUENA VISTA. Thank you for your fine selection, Buena Vista.—Esther. A DELIGHTFUL NOVELIST. Dear Esther, —I see by tho papers that few of the novels published last year were a financial success. I am not surprised at this, for, though I am not a great novel reader, I have been impressed by the poor quality of those I have chanced upon. There seems to be a predonderance af poor tales, lacking in originality of style or idea—tales of which one could snatch a page or paragraph here and there and know all there was to know without wasting further time on them. One can forgive a poor story if it is cleverly or amusingly written, but how rarely one comes across a book or which one is loth to skip one word for fear of missing an apt remark or a clever flash of wit. One noticeable feature about many of the modern novels is the poorness cf tho language in which they are written. There is a casual ness, a rough-and-ready carelessness that greatly detracts from the pleasure of reading. I did not realise how marked this was until I lately chanced upon one of Locke’s books. It was like sailing on beautiful, smooth water after battling across a rough sea. There seemed to be a gliding sensation that lured one on from sentence to sentence, and which came as a welcome change from the rough jerkiness of other books. W. J. Locke is, in my opinion, almost the best of the modern novelists. He is gifted with a rare originality of ideas, and he writes in a most distinctive style. His English is most unaffected and simple, and yet at the same time most impressive—the easy cultured English of the scholar. He also has a wonderful gift for characterisation—a gift which makes his men and women linger in one’s memory long after their stories have been forgotten. Moat of the people in his books are most original and unconventional, and can never fail to attract. Locke also possesses that most precious gift of humour which keeps cne hurrying down the pages hoping for more of it. i 3 one of the few writers of the day whose books can be read a second time with infinite pleasure His characters would make a delightful gathering, could one but meet them in the flesh. One can picture them all so well-r Simon tho Jester, who sacrificed everything, thinking he was about to die. and then made a wonderful recovery; Lola Brandt, the panther-like woman, from whom Simon rescued his nephew, and then himself fell a victim to her charms; quaint old Septimus, who married the aister whom he didn't love for the sake of the one he adored; tbp charming Marcus Ordevne and his Turkish protegee Carlotta; the etrong-minded Jaffrey and his strongminded friend Liosha: the untidy, cheery Clementina Wing and her quaint admirer Dt Quintax; tho fantastic Pnragot with his violin • the Fortunate Youth, who roso to great heights owing to his faith in his own ability; pathetio little Stella Marin and her admirers; Doggy Trevor and his French wife; and. best of nil that delightful character, Aristide Pujol, his old-maid friends, and tho baby he picked up on the road and fitted into one leg of his pyjamas. ?ho one character whom we would bar from the gathering would he Moordius. I envv Locke his intimate acquaintance with all these delightful people, and also his wonderful power in being able to creato more and more of these- vigorous-minded folk. He leads us into the highways and byways with a charm unequalled by any other writer of the day, and though hie later works have not the depth, the wisdom, or tho poetry of hie earlier books, I should unhesitatingly say to anyone in doubt as to what to read, "Get one of Looke’e.” JOSEPHINE.

I fully agree with you, Josephine, as to the poor quality of the great majority of novels published to-day, and also in your appreciation of W. J. Locke. ‘‘Moordius” I do not know, but gather that it is disappointing.—Esther. PILLAR BOXES AND HOUR GLASSES. Dear Esther, —Though you might not think it irom the title, I am ulraid my subject tor this meeting is rather like one that we had last year, tue “Clothes” meeting, but somehow the present-day fashions, or some of them, fill me with such amazement that I cannot refrain from speech on the subject. For instance, somebody sent me a month or two ago a copy of a woman's weekly paper newly started in Australia. Between the covers it was, I thought, excellent —stories verses, housecraft, articles, etc v etc. —but on the outside was a representation of a lady attired in the very latest garment of fashion a free pattern of which would be forwarded to any reader on receipt of a coupon printed inside. Judging by the proporu»n of the face to the rest of the body, which is the standard used, I believe, by artists, the lady must lißve Leon between seven and eight feet high. She was clothed in an absolutely straight up-and-down garment consisting of a tunic of some figured stuff reaching to somewhere about the knees, where it was joined to a frill of plain material. Sleeves two or three inches long adorned the upper end.*, and wrist-length gloves the lower ends, of two long, bare arms, which under Australian suns would very soon, I imagine, become the colour of new mahogany. Un the head was a small, close-fitting hat—l must say I think these small hats are very sensible as a rule, but not in the middle of an Australian summer—acioss the front of which dangled a •lace veil. The pattern would come right in front of the lady s eyes, and the lower edge would tickc her nose whenever she moved. High-heeled shoes and an embroidered bag daughug from one languid hand completed this ravishing toilette, and the whole thing being printed in red, the general effect was that ol a piilar-box, or stilts with a decorated cocoanut for a head. Truly it was. Now, seeing that the Creator has given to tho human female a form of flowing lines and curves, why should she evince such a frantio desire to resemble a pillar box as much as possible? Half a century ago our grandmothers’ ambition was to have the shape of an hour glass, wide sleeves held out with stiffening, an 18-inch waist (in the fashion plates), and full skirts that touched the ground all around combining to produce this effect. Elementary rules of health and hygiene were either not considered or not known. With the participation of women in active sports the hour-glass waist gradually disappeared, and the war period, with its stern demands on the womenkind of European countries, necessitated a strictly useful and workmanlike garb, so that at its close women’s dress was more sensible and attractive than it had been for centuries, with its short skirts, open necks, and loose-fitting frocks hung from the shoulders, doctors say they should be hung. If women had only been consent with that! But dress designers and material manufacturers have fortunes to make, so the fashions have gone on altering a little year by year, with clothes getting tighter and tighter, and scarcer and scarcer, and the normal lines of the figure so disregarded that one old gentleman who remembered other things is reported to have ■exclaimed in mild wonder that he could not understand why ladies wanted to sit upon their waists in the way they do at present, until now the fashionable ideal is a shape which ia of the same thickness, or, rather, thinness, the whole way down, and which resembles a woman as U'od meant her to ue about a-s little as, well, a pillar box doee. One feels inclined to add something to the verdict of the impish Puck, and say, -u.ord, what fools these mortals the women l” TEMPLETON. Truly fashion plates are an ironic commentary on women’s common sense and ideas of beauty. What an illuminating scrap bpok one might make of fashion illustrations collected over a period of a hundred, fifty, or even twenty years. Your letter puts present styles in an amusing light.—Esther. * * * FAITH AND CASTOR OIL. Dear Esther—ln this case the ca3tofc.,oil was the curative agent, while it was faith that caused the illness. It happened on board Dr Grenfell’s hospital crait, Albert, on one of her missionary cruises in the North Sea, that:—“While the skipper waß at work in the tobacco locker one morning, he heard a fisherman say that he had taken poison. ‘Where did you get it?’ ‘I got it from the Albert.’ ‘Who gave it to you?’ ‘Skipper ——’ mentioning the skipper’s name. At this the skipper came out trembling, wondering what he had done wrong now. ‘Well, you see, it was this way. Uur skipper had a bad leg, so as I was going aboard for some corf mixture, he just arst me to get him a drop of something to rub in. Well, the skipper here gives me a bottle of red liniment for our skipper’s leg, and a big bottle of corf mixture for me, but by mistake I drinks the liniment, and gave tho corf mixture to our skipper to rub in his leg. I only found out that there yesterday, so I knew I were poisoned, and I have been lying up ever since.’ ‘How. long ago did you get the medicine ?’ ‘About a fortnight.’ This man had got it into his head that he waa poisoned, and nothing on earth would persuade him to the contrary, so he was put to bed in the hospital. For the next three meals he had nothing but water and a doze of castor oil. By the next time dinner came round, the patient really began to think ho was on the mend, and remarked that ‘he began to feel real hungry like.’ It was just marvellous how much better he was before tea. He went home to his old smack cured, and greatly impressed with the capacity of the medical profession.” OCTOGENARIAN. Your humorous anecdote helpa to enliven the meeting, Octogenarian.—Esther. A NEW ZEALAND POET. Dear Esther,—l have this year renewed my acquaintance with tho poetry of the late Cornelius O’Regan. This young New Zealand - poet, was born in tho Inanguhua Valley in tho year 1874, but a short and painful illness in tho year 1895 ended his brief career. It is a real national loss that on® who hae given so much that is sympathetic and charming—much that could only deriv® its source from a pure and intellectual mind —should not be destined to reach the golden years of maturity. I am glad to seize tho opportunity to quote fragments from tho work of this young poet that my readers may appreciate his poetio genius. Under the title of “British Justice” are quaint little verses that recall to mind the charm of the "Cavalier Poets”: “O Chloe, Chloc, darling thief I Thou’st Btolen away this heart of mine; I trust that I am thief enough To pav thee back by stealing thins. "And e.nce all thieves are Bent to gaol, Heart thieves should thus be punished too. So let your arma be gaol for me, -And mine shall be a gaol for you.**

Marguerite.

thing It enabled her to do. is get in the colour she wants in the right degree to suit her desires.

A restful little fragment of greut simplicity is “Twilight": “O passing sweet is the twilight hour! Methinks our gracious Lord hath given This hour to man to eooth his soul, After the daytime pain and dole. With taste of Heaven. The distinguishing characteristics of the poet’s sonnets are strength and tenderness. “The Slaying of ths King” and “Poetic Inspiration” are examples of his genius. I must find a place for one of the jewel® of the carefully-worded store. The sincerity and sweet music of this poetic gift will endear the poet for all time to my readers: “TENNYSON." “In life’s fair morn, when Youth upon his way Strewed glorious flowers that bloom for youth alone, He took the lyre, and to the opening day Gave songs that filled the air with fairy tone. “When manhood’s sun shone down with splendid beam, He took the harp while all the world stood by, And swept its ciiords to many a glorious theme. In noble strains whose echoes shall not die. “At evening, ere his 4 long, bright day was done, Again he took the lyre, and as the' light Soft merged into the shadows stealing on He sang serenely of the coming night. “And in the gentle falling of that night, While grew the shadows more deep, He turned his eyes, all wearied, from the light, And sang his evensong—the Song ot Sleep.” Space will scarcely permit of more than passing reference to verses on pioneer life: “A splendid class of men they were that filled the country then; They laughed at death by ragin’ flood, dark forest, craggy glen; Hough were their ways an' blunt their speech: they never were afraid To say straight out whate’er they meant, an’ call a spade a spade.” It is but fitting that I should bring this letter to a close with another reference to the poet’s appreciation of Tennyson: “LINES ON READING ‘ CROSSING THE BAR.’ ” “Yes! Grand Old Man, night brings day's sable pall; Soon through the gloom thou’lt hear the Captain call Across the bar. Soon o’er the tranquil wave thou’lt speed away, To find on fairer shores a fadeless day; But though thou go'st thy spirit’s voice shall stay Till Time shall die, to cheer man’s gloomy way— Towards the bar.” EFFIE. Your contribution will please readers interested in poetry, Effie. It is sad that the promise shown in this young poet's verses should have been denied fulfilment. —Esther. IS SADNESS DESIRABLE IN POETRY? Dear Esther,— Although it would be impossible for the layman to express in words exactly what constitutes poetry, he is conscious of the fact that some forms of verse appeal to him strongly, whilst others leave him cold. lie finds, too, that what may appeal to him docs not always prove of the same interest to his friends. In one thing, however, he and his friends are generally at one; they agree that the poems they love to learn, and learn to love almost invariably breathe of sadness. In a world that is intent on the search of pleasure, it seems strange that anything of a grave nature should be tolerated. But we must know' melancholy before we can appreciate happiness; we must experience the discomforts of the dark and stormy night before we can enjoy the warmth and brightness of the day; in short, life is not life unless we know something of its contrasts, and profit by the knowledge gained from such experience. There are some people, too, who really pi’efer gentle tears to boisterous laughter. In ‘As You Like It” we read: “Rosalind: They say you are a melancholy fellow. “Jaques: I am so; I do love it better than laughing." It will be seen, then, that it is not at all strange that most people prefer poetry that has an element of sadness running through It. One thing we must note, however: this quality is not always present in the same form. In the following stanza, which I copied from an American novel, there is an atmosphere of sincere regret: “Wilderness lord of the olden time, Stalwart and plumed pine, They have dragged thee down to the roaring town From the realms that once wore thine; And he who stands in thy stately stead Has never a time of truce, For the axe and saw and the gindex’s Have doomed thee, too, King Spruce.” In Tennyson’s better-known metrical fragment “Break, Break, Break,” the form of sadness is that of wistfulness. Sometimes the» element of sadness is Been in the guise of pessimism. Shelley sings in “Mutability”: “The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world’s delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief, even as bright.” Other forms are present in Gray’s Mrs Browning’s “The Cry of the Children,'' Shakespeare’s “Venus and Adonis,” and many others. But it is always sadness—sweet, wistful, subtle, poignant, painful, or pessimistic sadness. While moet of the poems referred to above close on a note differing very little from the key in which the body of each of them is written, there aro others worthy of notice, which close on a note ot hopefulness. A motto discovered on an old sundial, it is •aid, will serve to illuafrate my point: Hours fly, Flowers die; New days, Now ways. Pass by; Love stays. “Santa Teresa’s Bookmark," translated by Longfellow, and also his “Hymn to the Night" are written in the same strain. Poetry of this kind may be likened to a beautiful landscape painting of a gentlyflowing stream, arched over with trees in ihe foreground, but juat beyond gleaming Ilorioualy in tbe unobstructed sunlight. lot, whether a poem ends on a happy note tr not, one thing aeems obvious: the poetry Eat makes the strongest appeal to the rgeat number of people is that which is variably bathed in an atmosphere of sud--o»ss. This being so, I believe that it is

not only desirable but essential for poetry to contain thie quality. ORLANDO. I am pleased to welcome you to the Cosy Corner Club, Orlando. Poetry that moves must deal with the deepest things of life, and these often partake of sadness. Your contribution is suggestive and interesting.— Esther. • * * COMFORT IN TROUBLE. Dear Esther, —I awoke with a start this evening to find that it really was the Ist of May, and if my letter is not posted tomorrow it will be too late for the meeting. The older one grows the quicker time flies, and as one grows older it is to find how much more precious is our Saviour. One sees on every hand hearts that have been bowed with trouble or sorrow. How blessed these troubles are when they bring us to the feet of the Lord Jesus, for there we find a balm for every woe, there the weary find rest, there Ho healetk the broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds, and we find that He truly does uphold those who fall and raises those who are bowed down. For though we fall yet are we not utterly east down. He givctli strength to the weak, and to those who have no might He increaseth strength. Some of our friends have trouble upon trouble, sorrow upon sorrow, and we find that these very things, which are more than they can bear alone, when they are cast at the feet of Jesus, strengthen their faith and trust in Him. The sweetest Christians are not those who have led lives of ease; they are those who have passed through the deep waters of affliction, for is it not true that—- “ Afflictions, though they seem severe, In mercy oft are sent.” How often in times of deepest trouble we have such a wonderful calmness and peace, which nothing but the near presence of the Lord Jesus can bring. We have only to live one day at a time, and for that one day God’s grace is sufficient. Here is a dear little poem on “Courage and tbust.” “Why do we worry about the nest? We are only here for a day Or a month or a year, at the Lord’s behest, In this habitat of clay. “Why do we worry about the road W T ith its hills or deep ravine? In a dismal path or heavy load We are helped by hands unseen. “Why do we worry about the years That our feet have not yet -trod? Who labours with courage and trusts, not fears, Has fellowship with God. “The best will come in the great ‘To Be ’; It is ours to serve and wait; And the wonderful future w'e soon shall see, For death is but the gate.’’ These verses were of so much help and blessing to me, and I trust that they will help others also. And what a glorious promise this is: “My peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth give I unto you; let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” I must now close, Esther, with best wishes to you and all comrades. May this session be a record one. FAITH. You always try to bring comfort to others. Faith, and I hope your words may help someone.—Esther. (To be Concluded.)

WEEKLY UP-TO-DATE DRESS NOTES.

By

Let us endeavour to get the viewpoint of the designer. The subject is the frock, savouring of the tailored to conform with the season. She—although I suspect it is often enough one of tire other sex—has before her a straight line, one-piece affair, suggestive of a kind of slip, and the whole thing is how to decorate it to break up the “field.” Well, the first thought is to divide it some way, and it may bo by a mere seam or line of stitching, something well down and clearly inspired by the girdle. But why a horizontal line all round, when an infinitely better effect is achieved in limiting such to a short width in front, and sloping the line to the sides like a shaped coat. With that much done, a decorative piece is brought down the front from the “V” collar to the line, when the whole suggestion is immediately of a coat and skirt. While there are other ways of getting a good frock, this is about the most effective, and if the piece down the front is slipped in, as it were, on the dividing line beinpi reached, and then, after an interval, brought out again to finish as a tab, so nuch rhe betlei I he designer has to work with any <such frock as mentioned witihin strict limitations and hence some of the difficulty. And incidentally this round neck is not nearly so helpful as the collar that is shaped, one fairly broad to a certain point, and then curved to nothing with the “V.” Another tlrng is the underskirt effect, which always suggests the coat with the rest. With tailored effects the smart rounded or conical hat with the apology for a brim is more or less imperative. The materials in vogue for trim frocks, such as mentioned, include all-wool rep, fancy wool marocain, ribbed rep, speckled rep, covert rep. serge gaberdine, ©tc., and the shades include brown, nigger, fawn, tan, beige, etc., and buttons, oriental braidings, etc., assist in the scheme of development. With respect to braiding, I have a friend, who had an inclination to make her own-nshe works them with considerable success, and say that one

The ensemble is beginning to manifest itself a little freely, and I opine that it will not be long before it is the rage. I show yftu enough of one in the accompanying sketch to serve our purpose to bring home the artistic nature of this newest of new styles. It is a case of coat to match frock, and frock to match coat, and the whole thing apart from this, is the way the two materials used are combined. Continue what you see in your mind's eye, and the lower part of the skirt matches the extreme top of the bodice section, the “ straps ’’ being finished off as a bow well down. But touching bows, if it weren’t for the straps, I could, with sonic modification of the general design, show you the new note ith such a girdle set very low, brought dow r n a little more in front and finished there, but a little to the side with a bow of very generous proportions, with ends of great length. And by saying of great length, I mean below' the hem of the skirt, all this being in conformity with the growing craze for dangling, fluttering ends, no matter how achieved. And they are often enough achieved from the collar, the upper part of which i? continued, scarf-like, to as far as ever you wish —yea, to loop below tho hip and continue again. But it is not this season that will give us that in the fullest, but the one to coine. Spring, when the ribbon as part and parcel of the dress, will carry all before it. It will be when the present tyoe of bn I burst? into flower, and a ribbou streamer comes down from that too. A hat that will bloom indeed, in that it will be smothered on the side that usually takes this kind of thing. At. present we are as discreet as the temperature demands, and so if an ensemble is selected, it is one on winter lines. \s in this case, where we have a picture of a very modisli thing, where two materials, all but the lining with one being touched up, are {combined with fur. It is an

elegant creation with a hat in keeping, and one of a group constituting the last word in fashionable dressing. And by the way. speaking of materials, what of this new one. A certain New Zealand gentleman just back from England speaks about the one that is threatening the woollen industry by closing up mill after mill abroad. I am very anxious to see it, that is if it's a material not designed exclusively for the other sex, and so out of my range. The gentleman referred to, says that it contains a little wool and also a little cotton, and for the rest is made of “wood-pulp,” which, for the benefit of those who are not initiated, would I take it, correspond with what this is printed on. Who invented it? Ho speaks of the mills in Spain and Italy, but whenever -I hear of any substitute of uncanny character, I always think of Germany, where, during the war, they made canvas bags of paper, and pretty strong canvas it was, as I have a sample, in fact have kept it ever since a soldier sent a relative a specimen. Mv curiosity is aroused, and I want to see this new material, as soon as possible.

possibilities—the top of the collar continued as a scarf. But what on opportunity for the motif well done, the worked one in

But I must not wander, and so to avoid further risk I return to the track with a picture. It illustrates this adorable scarf collar in the best wajr. In the case of a coat of plain material, a coat of tho “top” kind, that also serves as a dress. You will turn again to what I have already said on the subject, and note the

circular form, or for any other suitable thing for a dressy finish. Lovely aro these oriental scarves, with their exceedingly gay effect, which gain through tho size of the accessory. They pro vide a splendid relief with the severe dress, and may bo arranged in dozens of effective ways. But, of course, the usual one is once round the neck, with one end down the front and the other thrown over the shoulder. You may be quite certain that, it is all of tho developing kind, and that as tho weeks progress, the scarf will become more and more the thing, till, with Sipring, it reaches the acme in a scarf as large as a shawl, and having, indeed, a shawl effect about the shoulders. They are beautiful tilings even now but they will bo more beautiful still, when the lighter variety are there. They cannot be too gay, but they want to bo good. This is always the law with the conspicuous—it must be of tho best kind. Nor do the best cost as much as they might, and what in former days, they would have. Manufacture has reached to such a pass, that cost falls to a comparative trifle.

And now this—one of those selections J make from lime to time, because of a minoi feature. It is the collar of the “dress” itself, and that smart scarf-like loop. Then

is a “sporty” look about tho selection—“dress” and coat, just the thing for a change with those' who can wear these things.

RED RELISH. Twelve large tomatoes, naif a pint of vinegar, two taLlespoonfuls of mustard, a bead of garlic, half a tatlespoonful of mixed spice, and salt Put the tomatoes in a covered dish into the oven, and bake till soft. Takey away the peel and core, and beat them to a pulp. Grate the garlic, and add it with the other insred’out.s Boil all for twenty minutes. Lei it get cold, and then put it into bottles. TOMATO SAUCE, Scald ripe tomatoes, and remove the skins. Measure them, and to each quart allow one tablespooniul each of pepper, salt, and mustard (dry), half a tablespoonful of powdered allspice, two pods of red pepper, and iialf a pint of vinegar. Put all into a pan, and cook slowly for three hours, stirring now and then. Strain through rather "coarse muslin. Fut into bottles. Cork tightly. Run a little melted tallow over each cork to exclude the air. 1 BRETON PLUMS. Four pounds of damsons, two j ounds 'of whit© sugar, and half a gill of vinegar. Mix the sugar and vinegar, and simmer it very gently in a brass pan till it makeß a syrup. Rub the plums, prick them all over with a darning needle, and drop them into the boiling syrup. You must only put in a few at a‘time, as it is necessary that the syrup should cover them comnletelv. Boil them for ten minutes. Ladle them out, and put in fresh ones. When all are boiled, put into bottles, and pour the remains of the syrup over them. OEUF3 SUR LE PLAT (EGG-S ON THE DISH). Melt a little butter in a small fireproof dish. Break in two eggs, taking care not to smash the yolks; add pepper and salt, and two tablespuonfuis of “the top of the milk. Put the dish into a moderate oven till the whites turn opaque, then slip the dish under the gas griller, or pass a salamander over it just long enough to make the whites bubble up, and fleck themselves lightly with brown here and there. Serve at once. Colette gives me fried potatoes with this —nice brown, crispy ones, done in lots of fat. A green vegetable, such as spinach, is good, too; but, personally, I prefer the potatoes. ECONOMY FIG PUDDING. Two cups of flour, half a teaspoonful of soda, quarter of a teaspoonful of salt, quarter of a teaspoonful of cloves, quarter of a teaspoonful of allspice, quarter of a teaspoonful of nutmeg, one and a-kalf cups chopped ftes, half a cup of molasses, half a cup of milk, three tablespoonfuls of melted fat. Mix and sift flour, soda, calt, and spices. Add figs, molasses, milk, and melted fat, stirring constantly. When thoroughly mixed, pour into a greased pudding mould, cover, and 6team at least two hours. Serve hot with hard or liquid sauce flavoured with lemon. „ FIG MERINGUE PIE. Two cups chopped figs, two cups water, half a teaspoonful grated orange rind, threequarters of a cup of sugar, two tablespoonfuls of cornstarch, two egg yolks, half a cup of orange juice two stiffly beaten egg whites, one tablespoonlul of butter, three tablespoonfuls of sugar. Boil the figs, water, and orange rind five minutes. Add the sugar and the cornstarch, which has been mixed with a little cold water. Boil three minutes, stirring constantly, and cook in the double boiler over boiling water fifteen minutes. Add the egg yolks, and cook three minutes, stirring constantly. Add orange juice and butter," cool slightly, and pour into a baked pie crust. Add three tablespoonfuls of .sugar to the stiffly beaten egg whites, beating constantly. Spread on lop, and brown in a moderate oven.

FIG MOULD. Required, one pint custard, half a pound of figs, sugar to taste, half an ounce of gelatine, half a lemon. Wash, examine, and stew the figs till soft in hot water to cover them. Add the lemon juice, then tako them out, and chop them finely. Add them to the custard. Dissolvo the gelatine over a gentle heat in four tablespoonfuls of the water in •which tho figs were stewed. PLUM PUDDINGS. Grate six ounces of stale bread, shred half a pound of suet very fine, stone half a pound of raisins, and pick and wuah half a pound of currants, chop two ounces each candied lemon and orange peel, mix all together, adding three ounces of sugar, two wollbeaten eggs, and half a wincglassful of brandy. Stir until thoroughly miud. Then turn into small buttered basins—sufficient for one person—tie stout cloths wrung out In boiling water, and floured over each. Becure witn string, and boil the puddings for two hours. When ready, out, «od