A PAIR OF "NEW-CHUMS'" EXPLOITS IN HOUSKEEPING.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume VI, Issue 927, 17 October 1879, Page 2

A PAIR OF " NEW-CHUMS'" EXPLOITS IN HOUSKEEPING.

The following extract from a letter of a Katikati " new-chum " to his friends m the old country, m which he graphically describes his first experiments m breadmaking after setting up housekeeping m the colony, will be read with sympathetic interest by many of our readers. It will doubtless recall some of the incidents m connection with their own failures when they first "tried their 'prentice hands at this important branch of domestic economy : — I have now to tell you, as I promised, how Jack and I got on with the first baking. After ten days' solid research m all the cookery books and ' enquire-withins' we could lay our hands on, a ' start was made. Four pounds of hops and half-a-dozen bottles of Bass' best stout were purchased, and then we sat round to make the yeast. Alas, too many counsellors is the root of error, and before the matter was finally decided the stout, like a happy dream, had vanished, and with forlorn looks we realised the stern fact that the bottles were as empty as our brains. To make a long story short, we got another halfdozen, and kept them religiously corked till the blesaed staff was called yeast was made to our own intire satisfaction, when the balance of the stout got ordera to travel, and that quickly. The weather now got as cold as charity, and for three weeks that busted yeast wouldn t rise, try our utmost to help it along. We put m more stout, hops, soda, acid, and a patent elastic blister. The last remedy worked it up splendid and with hopes we proceeded to mix the duff aooording to the best authorities we could find. We mixed and mixed, and pounded and rolled till our arms ached, and you couldn't have told ua from a couple of paper men we were that white and washed-out looking. Having planted the dough m a Hennessy's brandy box on a chair before the fire to rise, we sat down with a sigh of relief, and had a quiet look round. And such a sight ! Patches of dough all about the floor, walls, table, and even ceiling. Flour everywhere ; even over the poor old dog and the pig, the bag itself lying m an undignified position with half its contents scattered over the floor, and ourselves — oh, Ghost of Misery ! — don't mention it — the very incarnation of misery amongst the bakers. One long, straight look at each other was enough, and, with a shriek and yell, we both rushed, out and jumped (clothes, flour, and all) into the creek. Having tidied up a bit, we went down to the pub, to christen the first loaf, and m the evening I left Jack there while I went to see the blessed dough. All was safe. Returning to bed, I dreamed troubled dreams r that I was a dough-man, but couldn't get myself baked. Anon, I dreamed again, when with a great start I woke, and thought Pandemonium had broken loose. Shrieks, yells, barks,' and grunts were all mixed up with curses, blasphemies, the noise of falling crockery, broken dishes, and pans. With my hair on end, I jumped up and struck a light, and there was Jack m the kitchen, drunk as a lord, with the broom m his hand,' hitting out, indiscriminately and his eyes staring out of his head. The bull-pup had him by the leg, and Fan had the pig by the ear, and they were careering round at the rate of fifty knots an hour. One thing caught my eye, and, with a yell equal to any of Jack's, I made for him, and then it was confusion worse confounded. The din was something awful till two neighbours came m and parted us. Trembling with rage and excitement, it was as much as they could do to keep me off liira, and m reply to their enquiry what it was all about I could only gasp and sob, pointing at the drunken fool where he sat, and jerk out spasmodically. " The fool has sat down in' the dough." And sure enough, when we got him up the dough, case and all, was sticking hard and fast to his rear. With a deep groan, I sank back exhausted, while the other unfeeling wretches roared and laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks. Need I say, a bottle of whiskey finished up that batch, and if ever it rose at all it was m the stomach of a pig ? — Bay of Plenty Times.