COOKING MEMORIES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3254, 11 September 1878, Page 3

COOKING MEMORIES.

(By Snigoeheb.) (Concluded.) Sniggerer again wanders off. " Black points and I loft the White Hills. We threw in our lot with a combination party organised to try tho Daisy Hill diggings, of whose fabulous riches the most glowing accounts had come to Bendigo. We had an old bumble-footed horse and a light Sydneybuilt cart to take along our tents and tools and gear. Blackpoints fixed up a large supply of splendid damper, and with abundance of tea, sugar, and " scabby," we started off on our journey. The weather was delightful ; the country was beautiful 5 there wore no swags to carry ; we were young and high in hopo j as a consequence, we did not hurry along the way, and before we reached tho new " diggings," Blackpoints' damper gave out. The last of the damper disappeared ono evening for tea, aud there was still one day's travelling to be done. Next morning wo were up early, and covered some of the distance, but Blackpoints and Sniggerer wore not in their ÜBtial flush of spirits. What was to be done for breakfast wo could not imagine, our bill of fare being cut down to only two items, and the thought preyed upon our minds. At last we pulled up, and Bill Glover, a young cheerful spirit, announced that he would make us " wretches on tho coals." Ho used another word for " wretches," but Sniggerer is well contented with the word ho has substituted. We had stopped in a part of the bush where, on each side of the track, the ground waß covered thick with branches which had fallen from the trees' and dried hard in the sun. We were told to make a fire and keep piling on small branches, and full of hope, and curious expectation we worked away with a will. Several times we paused and asked if "that would do?" but were still told to go on. We burned enough wood to cook the " wretches" as would have kept MiBS Rdler's fire going for a month. At last Bill set to work in his department. He made a thin batter of flour, water, and salt, and when our fire had burned down until there was nothing but red glowing embers, he spread the "wretches" dn the top of then. The " scabby " and tea f had been cooked at a separate fire.. . Our '(wretches" were light, sweet, and altogether beautiful. We had the finest breakfast * we had had for months. Sniggerer „ declart*B ,-t ; this time honestly— that he .never? did. eat sueh sconeß, and he never can eat .anytlmethab willtaste. like them again. The " wretches " live in his memory like a pleasant dream. Ah! dear*

Miss Kdler, with all your art you cannot make scones to taste like the wretches of Bill Glover!"

"I say, Charley, I begin to feel very hungry. Are the scones she makes for eating ? I wonder if she will give us some ?" " Oh, I expect; she will, Snig, if you ask ask her. Only don't interrupt me just now, if you please." Charley actually has a note -book too, and is pegging away a good one. Sniggerer wonders whether he is compiling cooking notes for the weekly Terror, or whether he is laying up a store of knowledge, to be presented, (with possibly some thoughts of then' bearing on his future comfort), along with his heart and hand, to the future Mrs Charley. All the while Miss Mdler is chatting away quite pleasantly about scone making. Mixing up the flour with the carbonate of soda — putting in a little butter. Don't forget the butter says Miss Pidler. A little bit of butter, she tells us, always exercises a most beneficial influence upon scones; Sniggerer would suggest that it is very useful in a great many more ways fchan scone making. Looking back over a long, and lefc us hopo, cheerful past, how few there are, even of our dearest and best beloved, to whom it soon became evident that a little butter was not at all distasteful. The scones are fixed up. They are consigned to the gas stove, and the watchful care of a young Hebe who stands thereat, the presiding goddess of that department of the culinary art. She is not an attenuated young maiden by any means. She is round, rosy, and comfortable looking as cooks and all their ministering assistants should be. For a moment Sniggerer occupies his attention with the problem whether Miss Mdler chose her from many possibly suitable maidens, or whether she found the raw frame work, and brought it to its present, perfection by careful study and artful handicraft.

Afc occasional tinies Sniggerer has been watching to get a glance of the young lady's face in front of him, bufc without success. She is deep in the mystery of fiom', carbonate of soda and things, and bends her hat and black feather well over. He caught a sight of the daintiest little hand,' and the tiniest pinkiest little thumb, which by the by has never yet come much in contact with pots and pans. Sniggerer dares wager that sixes is her size. If ho lost gloves he need not trouble about the matter of size. A hand for all the world like thafc little one, OTer which he used long ago to fondly hn — "I say Snig. Don't you think that its rery interesting?" "Oh very!" "Tou would hardly believe now that? any mere talk by a woman upon such a subject as cooking could be made so enjoyable." Whereupon memory again carries poor Sniggerer away. "Ifc is the Durham Lead of old Ballarat. The sinking is deep and dampvery damp ; wet— very wet. There was always a heavy rain in our shaft. But after the day's toil was over how sweet to seek repose in our bark hut, and the genial and refreshing sustenance which the weary body required cooked by the hand of woman—lovely woman! Yes, we had a real live feminine cook on Ballarat. She was not bonny— but bony. She was nofc young — her period of birth was liidden far away in a remote past. She had had much Colonial experience, a not inconsiderable portion of it in Tasmania. Her teeth, on one side, were worn well away through pressure upon an earthen pipe. The pipe was not long and white and genteel, but short and black, and vulgarly robust. But Madame — yes, that was the name we gave her— Madame was not particular. When the short black ran away from her, which it frequently did, she would chew. When she smoked she chewed fche sweet cud of reflection, and when she didn't, she chewsfc to chew some other way. She did not cook like Miss Fidler. She dispensed with linen armless over her sleeves. When she had sleeves at all, they were of the drigglety-dragglety order of' construction. She did not wear hoops, which were then the fashion. Her garments alone loved her ; they clung around her with all the vehemence of a bathing-gown. But Madame was popular ; we gloried in Madame. First, she was woman — and woman in any shape was scarce. Then she was an original woman, and few women can boast that charm. She was unique in erery way. Her language, for instance, was bright and picturesque. It was like no other known tongue. Her adjectives were vast in their variety. Sudden, startling, appalling, racy, vituperative, brilliant in their lightning rapidity, and capable of wonderful combination. She was of a jovially boisterous nature, and preferred her medicine neat. We were nofc partial, however, to her made dishesj nor did we care at all to see her over her cooking operations. Bufc she was proud of her boys, and sometimes more fond of them than was agreeable. Pudding thoy shoidd have on Sunday, and on Sunday Sniggerer preferred to go for a long saunter into the bush, coming home carefully to tea. Ah, Madame! dear old Madam c! with all her rare and many estimable qualities, has gone, and her like may not be found on earth again. " Shall we go now, Snig ? T!ie lecture is about over, and the meeting will be breaking up." " Yes, Charley, I'm getting rather melancholy now ; let us trot. No, wait a bit, though." Jusfc then, as Sniggerer half rose, he saw her;; faco. It was pale, melancholy, and spirituelle. Strictly acquiline the features. The kind of face he expected to see, and should have, been disappointed to have found any other. Sniggerer remembers two paintings he saw long years ago. They were the work of a daughter of Kenny Meadows, the artist and well-known book illustrator, a young lady who had achieved high honours in the School of Arts and at the Academy. The first was just such a face as that before him— pure in its lines of classic beauty, pale, melancholy, and enveloped in a dreamy filmy haze. It was called the spirituelle. Its companion was the faco of a Newhaven fishwife, strong in its lines, half vigorous in expression, rudely robust, yet beautiful withal. Ifc was called tho Practical. As Sniggerer re-calls these two pictures, ho glances from the pale face before him to the strong practical countenance of Miss Fidler on the platform, and finds tho pictures almost re-produced. Miss Fidler, at this moment, is impressing upon her audience that when they havo boiled their plum puddings thoy aro to let them stand for a minute or so in their tins to cool. The cold air causes the tins to expand and swell, leaving a little space between them and tlio pudding, when with a Uttle shake — so — out they como quite whole. But Madamo never, used a tin— sho mado her puddings in an old shirt-sleeve ; indeed she was not particular—and boiled thcin in a bucket. Miss Fidler makes her puddings quito different from Madamo. "Comcon Charley or wo shall be dishod as well fts tho puddings." Charley rose and stole forward through the crowd of the gentler sex. I followed him timidly. It was very dark outside. Wo lighted our pipes and sallied homewards. "Well, Snig, old man, you have been vory quiet. How have you enjoyed yourself ?" "Very well indeed, Charley. You forget, thafc when I did venturo a remark, how you sat upon a fellow. Bufc Miss Fidler is quite charming, and has enabled mo to spend this ovening quite delightfully. If 1 were a woman I'd take lessons from her rog'lar, but being an old masculine duffer, I think I have had enough. Another trial might not prove so great a success. What do you say ?"