Meat in which you can detect the slightest trace of putrescency, has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed without delay; but before this period, which in some kinds of meat is offensive, the due degree of inteneration may be ascertained, by its yielding readily to the pressure of the finger, and by its opposing little resistance to an attempt to bind the joint.

Although we strongly recommend that animal food should be hung up in the open air, till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness; yet, let us be clearly understood also to warn you, that if kept till it loses its natural sweetness, it is as detrimental to health, as it is disagreeable to the smell and taste.

Though it is advisable that animal food should be hung up in the open air till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness, yet, if it is kept till it loses its natural sweetness, its flavour has become deteriorated, and, as a wholesome comestible, it has lost many of its qualities conducive to health. As soon, therefore, as the slightest trace of putrescence is detected, it has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed immedi­ately.

The Greeks were remarkably fond of this fish,²⁰⁵ especially when obtained from Alexandria.²⁰⁶ They were not less esteemed in Rome, where they eat them boiled with cummin, and seasoned with pepper, alisander, parsley, dried mint, and a great quantity of cummin, the whole carefully and well ground, and mixed with honey, vinegar, and garum, to which was sometimes added some liquid perfume.

The Crayfish.—This is one of those fishes that were highly esteemed by the ancients. The Greeks preferred it when brought from Alexandria, and the Romans ate it boiled with cumin, and seasoned with pepper and other condiments.

“Crayfishes can be preserved several days, not too warm, in baskets with some fresh grass, such as the nettle, or in a bucket with three-eighths of an inch of water. If there were enough water in it to cover them, they would die in a few moments, because their great consumption of air does not allow them to live in water unless it is continually renewed.”—Bosc.

The principal breeding-time of Oysters is in April and May, when they cast their spawn, or spats, as the fishermen call them, upon rocks, stones, shells, or any other hard substance that happens to be near the place where they lie, to which the spats immediately adhere. These, till they obtain their film or crust, are somewhat like a drop of a candle, but are of a greenish hue. The substances to which they adhere, of whatever nature, are called cultch.

Season of Oysters.—From April and May

The Oyster fishery of our principal coasts is regulated by a court of admiralty. In the month of May the fishermen are allowed to take the Oysters, in order to separate the spawn from the cultch, the latter of which is thrown in again to preserve the bed for the future. After this month it is felony to carry away the cultch, and otherwise punishable to take any Oyster, between whose shells, when closed, a shilling will rattle. The reason of the heavy penalty on destroying the cultch is, that when this is taken away, the ouse will increase, and muscles and cockles will breed on the bed and destroy the Oysters, from gradually occupying all the places on which the spawn should be cast.

* Jones’s Oppian. The ancients seem to have been ignorant that Oysters are usually found adherent, and to rocks.

Besides the pleasure which this amusement afforded, the ancients, like ourselves, discovered profit in it; and the produce of their chase became one of the finest ornaments of their feasts. Isaac ordered his son Esau to go out with his weapons, his quiver and bow, and to prepare for him savoury meat, such as he loved (venison).³⁶ Solomon had stags, roebucks, and wild oxen served on his table every day.³⁷

36. Genes. xxvii. 3, 4.

37. III. Reg. iv. 23.

Venison.—Far, far away in ages past, our fathers loved the chase, and what it brought; and it is usually imagined that when Isaac ordered his son Esau to go out with his weapons, his quiver and his bow, and to prepare for him savoury meat, such as he loved, that it was venison he desired. The wise Solomon, too, delighted in this kind of fare; for we learn that, at his table, every day were served the wild ox, the roebuck, and the stag.

Cyrus, King of Persia, ordered that venison should never be wanting at his repasts.³⁸ Is it necessary to add that it was the delight of two nations the most gastronomic in the world?—of the effeminate Greeks, and more especially those Romans for whom the animals of the earth, ocean, and air were only to be valued in proportion to the impossibility of obtaining them in Europe, Asia, and Africa; an immense inheritance, conquered by noble ancestors, and which their degenerated sons ransacked for their satisfaction and insatiable gluttony.³⁹

38. Xenoph. Exped. Cyri, i.

39. Id. De Republ. Lacedæm.; Herodot. Hist. vii.; A then. iv. passim; Petron. Sat.

The English have always loved hunting—the favourite pastime of their kings.

Alfred the Great was not twelve years old when he had acquired the reputation of being a skilful and indefatigable hunter.⁴⁰

40. Asserius, Vita Ælfredi.

The Empire of Nature has, by the general assent of mankind, been divided into three essential kingdoms; the first consisting of minerals, the second of vegetables, and the third of animals.

585. By the General Assent of Mankind, the Empire of Nature has been divided into three kingdoms; the first consisting of minerals, the second of vegetables, and the third of animals.

The Mineral Kingdom, which consists of substances destitute of the organs necessary to life or motion, occupies in rude masses the interior parts of the earth. It is formed from the accidental aggregation of particles, which, under certain circumstances, take a constant and regular figure, but which are more frequently found without any definite confor­mation.—

The latter of these kingdoms was subdivided by Linnæus into six classes, viz. Mammiferous Animals, which he called Mammalia, Birds, Amphibious Animals, Fishes, Insects, and Worms.

The class of animals denominated Mammalia comprehends all those that nourish their young by means of lactiferous glands or teats, and that have, flowing in their veins, a warm and red blood. It includes the whales, an order that, from external shape and habits of life, has usually been arranged among the fishes. It is true that these animals inhabit exclusively the water, an element in which none of the quadrupeds can long subsist, and are furnished like the fish with fins, still, however, in every essential charac­teristic, they exhibit an alliance to the quadrupeds. They have warm blood, produce their young alive, and nourish them with milk furnished from teats. In their internal structure they are likewise in a great measure allied to the quadrupeds, having similar lungs, and two auricles, and two ventricles to the heart.

586. This Class of Animals embraces all those that nourish their young by means of lacteal glands, or teats, and are so constituted as to have a warm or red blood. In it the whale is placed,—an order which, from external habits, has usually been classed with the fishes; but, although this animal exclusively inhabits the water, and is supplied with fins, it nevertheless exhibits a striking alliance to quadrupeds. It has warm blood, and produces its young alive; it nourishes them with milk, and, for that purpose, is furnished with teats. It is also supplied with lungs, and two auricles and two ventricles to the heart; all of which bring it still closer into an alliance with the quadrupedal species of the animal kingdom.

587. The General Characteristics of the Mammalia have been frequently noticed. The bodies of nearly the whole species are covered with hair, a kind of clothing which is both soft and warm, little liable to injury, and bestowed in proportion to the necessities of the animal and the nature of the climate it inhabits.

The bodies of nearly all the mammiferous animals, are covered with hair, a soft and warm clothing liable to little injury, and bestowed in quantity proportioned to the necessities of the animals, and the climates which they inhabit. In most of the aquatic quadrupeds this covering, from its too free absorption of moisture, is wanting.

The head in all the higher orders of animals, is the seat of the principal organs of sense, the mouth, the nose, the eyes, and the ears. It is through the mouth that they receive their nourishment. This contains the teeth, which in most of the Mammalia are used not only for the mastication of their food, but as weapons of offence. They are inserted into two moveable bones called the upper and under jaw. The front teeth whose office it is to cut, are wedge-shaped, and so placed that in action their sharp edges are brought into contact, and thus divide the aliment.—Next to these, on each side, are situated the canine-teeth or tusks. They are longer than the other teeth, conical and pointed, but the points do not directly meet on closing the mouth. Their use is to tear the food.—The teeth in the back of the jaw, between which the food is masticated, are called grinders. In animals that live on vegetables, these are flattened at the top, but in carnivorous animals their upper surfaces are furnished with sharp conically pointed protuberances. From the numbers, form, and disposition of the teeth, the various genera of quadrupeds have been arranged.

The nose is a cartilaginous body pierced with two holes called nostrils. In some animals this is prominent, in others flat, compressed, turned upwards, or bent downwards. In beasts of prey it is often either longer than the lips, or of equal length with them. In a few animals it is elongated into a moveable trunk or proboscis, and in one tribe, the Rhinoceros, it is armed with an horn.

The eyes of quadrupeds are for the most part defended by moveable eye-lids, whose outer margins are furnished with hairs, called eye-lashes. The opening of the pupil is in general circular, but in some animals, as Cats and Hares, it is contracted into a perpendicular line, and in Oxen, Horses, and a few others, it forms a transverse bar. The opening contracts during the day, that the very sensible retina may not be irritated by the rays of light; and is expanded in the dark to allow as many rays as possible to pass.

The ears are openings generally accompanied by a cartilage which defends and covers them, called the external ears. In aquatic animals the latter are wanting, the sounds in them being transmitted merely through holes, which have the name of auditory holes. The most defenceless animals are very delicate in their sense of hearing, as are likewise most of the beasts of prey. In wild animals the ears are erect and somewhat funnel shaped, capable of having their opening turned towards the quarter from whence the sounds proceed, but in those that are tame or domestic the ears are, for the most part, long and pendulous.

Most of the Mammiferous Animals walk on four feet, which are usually divided at the extremities into toes or fingers. The extremities, however, of some, as the Horse, end in a single corneous substance, called a hoof. The toes of a few of the quadrupeds end in broad flat nails, and of most of the others in pointed claws. Sometimes the toes are connected together by a membrane: this is the case in animals that spend part of their lives in the water. Sometimes, as in the Bats, the digitations of the anterior feet are greatly elongated, having their intervening space filled by a membrane which extends round the hinder legs and the tail, and by means of which they are enabled to rise into the air.

Man, and a certain number of other animals are capable of seizing objects, by surrounding and grasping them with their fingers. For this purpose the fingers are separate, free, flexible, and of a certain length. Man has such fingers on his hands only; but Apes and some other kinds of animals have them both on their hands and feet.—Only Man, Apes, and Lemurs have the thumb separate, and capable of being opposed to the fingers, so as to form a kind of forceps. These are therefore the only animals that can hold moveable objects in a single hand.—

According to the destination of Nature, the Mammiferous Animals are calculated, when full grown, to subsist upon food of various kinds; some to live wholly upon flesh, others upon grain, herbs, or fruits of different kinds; but in their infant state, milk is the food appropriated to the whole. And that this food may never fail to them, it is universally ordained, that the young is no sooner born than milk flows in abundance into the members provided in the mother for the secretion of that nutritious fluid. The infant animal searches for the teat almost as soon as it comes into life, and knows perfectly at the first how by suction to extract the fluid that preserves its existence.

588. According to the Design and End of Nature, mammiferous animals are calculated, when arrived at maturity, to subsist on various kinds of food,—some to live wholly upon flesh, others upon grain, herbs, or fruits; but in their infant state, milk is the appropriate food of the whole. That this food may never fail them, it is universally ordained, that the young should no sooner come into the world, than the milk should flow in abundance into the members with which the mother is supplied for the secretion of that nutritious fluid. By a wonderful instinct of Nature, too, the young animal, almost as soon as it has come into life, searches for the teat, and knows perfectly, at the first, how, by the process of suction, it will be able to extract the fluid necessary to its existence.

In the general economy of Nature it is one great business of this class of animals to keep up a constant equilibrium in the number of animated beings of the world. To man they are immedi­ately useful in various ways; they afford him their bodies for food, and their fleece to shelter him from cold. Some of them partake with him the dangers of combat with his enemies; and others pursue and obtain for him the animals necessary to his subsistence. Many indeed are injurious to him, but most of them, in some shape or other, prove their services and importance.

589. In the General Economy of Nature, this class of animals seems destined to preserve a constant equilibrium in the number of animated beings that hold their existence on the surface of the earth. To man they are immedi­ately useful in various ways. Some of their bodies afford him food, their skin shoes, and their fleece clothes. Some of them unite with him in participating the dangers of combat with an enemy, and others assist him in the chase, in exterminating wilder sorts, or banishing them from the haunts of civilization. Many, indeed, are injurious to him; but most of them, in some shape or other, he turns to his service.

There is scarcely any part of the Ox that is not of some use to mankind. Boxes, combs, knife-handles, and drinking-vessels, are made of the horns. The horns, when softened with boiling water, become so pliable, as to be formed into transparent plates for lanterns; an invention ascribed to King Alfred, who is said to have first used them to preserve his candle-time measurers from the wind. Their dung is useful as manure. Glue is made of the cartilages, gristles, and the finer pieces of cuttings and parings of the hides, boiled in water, till they become gelatinous and the parts sufficiently dissolved, and then dried. The bone is a cheap substitute, in many instances, for ivory. The thinnest of the Calves-skins are manufactured into vellum. The blood is used as the basis of Prussian-blue. Sadlers and others use a fine sort of thread, prepared from the sinews, which is much stronger than any other equally fine. The hair is valuable in various manufactures; and the suet, fat, and tallow, for candles. The utility of the milk and cream is well known.

Mr. Lewis, in his “Physiology of Common Life,” has thus revived the story of the beef-eating son of France:—

2. Horse-flesh.—A Frenchman was one day blandly remon­strating against the super­cilious scorn expressed by Englishmen for the beef of France, which he, for his part, did not find so inferior to that of England. “I have been two times in England,” he remarked, “but I nevère find the bif so supérieur to ours. I find it vary conveenient that they bring it you on leetle pieces of stick, for one penny; but I do not find the bif supérieur.” On hearing this, the Englishman, red with astonishment, exclaimed, “Good God, sir! you have been eating cat’s meat.”

It is very true, he had been eating cat’s meat; but had he not at the same time been eating meat as succulent, savoury, and wholesome as the marbled beef of which the Briton is so proud?

Our senses are the sentinels which guard us against the approach of danger. The sense of Taste warns us against swallowing deleterious substances, as that of Smell warns us against noxious gases, and against some that are not noxious, while it allows others to pass which are very injurious. Indeed, the value of this service must not be exaggerated, as by many writers it is, who seem blind to daily fact, when they have a thesis to maintain. The Senses are sentinels which sometimes sleep, and sometimes allow an enemy to pass, if the watchword be given; and thus children are poisoned by agreeable berries, men eat with great relish substances which prove very noxious.

The tongue, whether in the ox or in man, is the seat of the sense of taste. This sense warns the animal against swallowing deleterious substances.

* Human Physiology, p. 696.

The personal history of James Hogg must have interested Scott even more than any acquisition of that sort which he owed to this acquaintance with, perhaps, the most remark­able man that ever wore the maud of a shepherd. But I need not here repeat a tale which his own language will convey to the latest posterity. Under the garb, aspect, and bearing of a rude peasant—and rude enough he was in most of these things, even after no inconsiderable experience of society—Scott found a brother poet, a true son of nature and genius, hardly conscious of his powers.

James Hogg was perhaps the most remarkable man that ever wore the maud of a shepherd. Under the garb, aspect, and bearing of a rude peasant (and rude enough he was in most of these things, even after no inconsiderable experience of society), the world soon discovered a true poet.

TO CURE BACON. COBBETT’S RECEIPT.

FOR CURING BACON, AND KEEPING IT FREE FROM RUST (Cobbett’s Recipe).

The two sides that remain, and which are called flitches, are to be cured for bacon. They are first rubbed with salt on their insides, or flesh sides, then placed one on the other, the flesh sides uppermost, in a salting trough which has a gutter round its edges to drain away the brine, for to have sweet and fine bacon the flitches must not be sopping in brine, which gives it the sort of taste that barrel pork and sea pork have, and than which nothing is more villanous; every one knows how different is the taste of fresh dry salt from that of salt in a dissolved state, therefore change the salt often, once in four or five days; let it melt and sink in, but let it not lie too long; change the flitches, put that at bottom which was first on the top, do this a couple of times; this mode will cost you a great deal more in salt than the sopping mode, but without it your bacon will not be so sweet and fine, nor keep so well.

806. The two Sides that remain, and which are called flitches, are to be cured for bacon. They are first rubbed with salt on their insides, or flesh sides, then placed one on the other, the flesh sides uppermost, in a salting-trough which has a gutter round its edges to drain away the brine; for, to have sweet and fine bacon, the flitches must not be sopping in brine, which gives it the sort of vile taste that barrel and sea pork have. Every one knows how different is the taste of fresh dry salt from that of salt in a dissolved state; therefore change the salt often,—once in 4 or 5 days; let it melt and sink in, but not lie too long; twice change the flitches, put that at bottom which was first on the top: this mode will cost you a great deal more in salt than the sopping mode, but without it your bacon will not be so sweet and fine, nor keep so well.

The place for salting should, like a dairy, always be cool, but always admit of a free circulation of air; confined air, though cool, will taint meat sooner than the mid-day sun accompanied by a breeze. With regard to smoking the bacon, two precautions are necessary: first, to hang the flitches where no rain comes down upon them, and next, that the smoke must proceed from wood, not peat, turf, nor coal. As to the time it requires to smoke a flitch, it must depend a good deal upon whether there be a constant fire beneath, and whether the fire be large or small; a month will do if the fire be pretty constant, and rich as a farm-house fire usually is; but over smoking, or rather too long hanging in the air, makes the bacon rust; great attention should therefore be paid to this matter. The flitch ought not to be dried up to the hardness of a board, and yet it ought to be perfectly dry; before you hang it up lay it on the floor, scatter the flesh side pretty thickly over with bran, or with some fine sawdust, not of deal or fir; rub it on the flesh, or pat it well down upon it, this keeps the smoke from getting into the little openings, and makes a sort of crust to be dried on.

807. The Place for Salting should, like a dairy, always be cool, but well ventilated; confined air, though cool, will taint meat sooner than the midday sun accompanied by a breeze. With regard to smoking the bacon, two precautions are necessary: first, to hang the flitches where no rain comes down upon them; and next, that the smoke must proceed from wood, not peat, turf, or coal. As to the time required to smoke a flitch, it depends a good deal upon whether there be a constant fire beneath; and whether the fire be large or small: a month will do, if the fire be pretty constant and rich, as a farmhouse fire usually is; but over-smoking, or rather too long hanging in the air, makes the bacon rust; great attention should therefore be paid to this matter. The flitch ought not to be dried up to the hardness of a board, and yet it ought to be perfectly dry. Before you hang it up, lay it on the floor, scatter the flesh side pretty thickly over with bran, or with some fine sawdust, not of deal or fir; rub it on the flesh, or pat it well down upon it: this keeps the smoke from getting into the little openings, and makes a sort of crust to be dried on.

“To keep the bacon sweet and good, and free from hoppers, sift fine some clean and dry wood ashes. Put some at the bottom of a box or chest, long enough to hold a flitch of bacon. Lay in one flitch, and then put in more ashes, then another flitch, and cover this with six or eight inches of the ashes. The place where the box or chest is kept ought to be dry, and should the ashes become damp, they should be put in the fire-place to dry, and when cold put back again. With these precautions, the bacon will be as good at the end of the year, as on the first day.”

808. To keep the Bacon sweet and good, and free from hoppers, sift fine some clean and dry wood ashes. Put some at the bottom of a box or chest long enough to hold a flitch of bacon; lay in one flitch, and then put in more ashes, then another flitch, and cover this with six or eight inches of the ashes. The place where the box or chest is kept ought to be dry, and should the ashes become damp, they should be put in the fireplace to dry, and when cold, put back again. With these precautions, the bacon will be as good at the end of the year as on the first day.

It may be as well to observe in reference to the above receipt, given by the very celebrated William Cobbett in his Cottage Economy, that most counties in England have their peculiar method of curing hams and bacon, each varying in some slight degree from the other, and, of course, each is considered orthodox. But for simple general rules, the above may be safely taken as a guide; and those who implicitly follow the directions given will possess at the expiration of from six weeks to two months well flavoured and well cured bacon.

809. For Simple General Rules, these may be safely taken as a guide; and those who implicitly follow the directions given, will possess at the expiration of from 6 weeks to 2 months well-flavoured and well-cured bacon.

A very strong-minded lady of the class, and, in Lord Cockburn’s language, “indifferent about modes and habits,” had been asking from a lady the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady naturally entered a little upon her moral qualifi­cations, and described her as a very decent woman; the reply to which was, “Oh, d—n her decency; can she make good collops?”—an answer which would somewhat surprise a lady of Moray Place now, if engaged in a similar discussion of a servant’s merits.

Dean Ramsay, who tells us, in his “Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character,” a number of famous stories of the strong-headed, warm-hearted, and plain-spoken old dames of the north, gives, amongst them, the following:—A strong-minded lady of this class was inquiring the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady who was giving the character entered a little upon the cook’s moral qualifi­cations, and described her as a very decent woman; to which the astounding reply—this was 60 years ago, and a Dean tells the story—“Oh, d——n her decency: can she make good collops?”

In the Nouveau Bulletin des Sciences, a most extraordinary account is given of a cow which produced nine calves at three successive births. First, in 1817, four cow calves; secondly, in 1818, three calves, two of them females; and thirdly, in 1819, two calves, both females. With the exception of two, belonging to the first birth, all were suckled by the mother.

The cow seldom produces more than a single calf; sometimes, twins, and, very rarely, three. A French news­paper, however,—the “Nouveau Bulletin des Sciences,”—gave a trustworthy but extraordinary account of a cow which produced nine calves in all, at three successive births, in three successive years. The first year four cow calves; the second year, three calves, two of them females; the third year, two calves, both females. With the exception of two belonging to the first birth, all were suckled by the mother.

There is no division of the animal creation in which we are more led to admire the wisdom of the Supreme Being than in the different feathered tribes. Their structure, and habits of life, are wonderfully fitted for the various functions they have to perform.

917. The Divisions of Birds are founded principally on their habits of life, and the natural resemblance which their external parts, especially their bills, bear to each other. According to Mr. Vigors . . . .

Their bodies are clad with feathers; which are much lighter than coverings of hair, and therefore better calculated for aiding their flight than these would be. The feathers lie over each other, close to the body, like the tiles of a house; and are arranged from the fore-part backwards, by which the animals are enabled the more conveniently to cut their way through the air. For the purpose of giving warmth to the body, a short and extremely soft down fills up all the vacant spaces between the shafts of the feathers. Their elevation from the earth is also aided by their bones being hollow, and very light comparatively with those of terrestrial animals.

918. The Mechanism which enables Birds to wing their course through the air, is both singular and instructive. Their bodies are covered with feathers, which are much lighter than coverings of hair, with which quadrupeds are usually clothed. The feathers are so placed as to overlap each other, like the slates or the tiles on the roof of a house. They are also arranged from the fore-part backwards; by which the animals are enabled the more conveniently to cut their way through the air.

They urge themselves forward in the air by means of wings. These are so constructed, that in striking downwards, they expand very greatly; and, except that they are somewhat hollow on the under side, they become, in this act, almost two planes.

A bird, by spreading his wings, can continue to move horizontally in the air for some time, without striking; because he has acquired a sufficient velocity, and, his wings being parallel to the horizon, meet with but small resistance; and, when he begins to fall, he can easily steer himself upwards by his tail, till the motion he had acquired is nearly spent, when he must renew it by two or three more strokes of his wings. On alighting, he expands his wings and tail full against the air, that they may meet with all the resistance possible.

As these animals are continually passing among hedges and thickets, they are provided, for the defence of their eyes from external injuries, as well as from too much light when flying in opposition to the rays of the sun, with a nictating or winking membrane, which can at pleasure be drawn over the whole eye, like a curtain. This covering is neither opake nor wholly pellucid, but is somewhat transparent; and it is by means of this, that the Eagle is said to gaze at the sun.—In Birds we find that the sight is much more piercing, extensive, and exact, than in the other orders of animals. The eye is much larger in proportion to the bulk of the head, than in any of these. This is a superiority conferred upon them not without a corresponding utility; it seems even indispensable to their safety and subsistence. Were this organ in birds dull, or in the least degree opake, from the rapidity of their motion they would be in danger of striking against various objects in their flight. In this case their celerity, instead of being an advantage, would become an evil, and their flight must be restrained by the danger resulting from it. Indeed, we may consider the velocity with which an animal moves, as a sure indication of the perfection of its vision. Among the quadrupeds, the Sloth has its sight greatly limited; whilst the Hawk, as it hovers in the air, can espy a Lark sitting on a clod, perhaps at twenty times the distance at which a man or a dog could perceive it.

919. In the Construction of the Eyes of birds, there is a peculiarity necessary to their condition. As they pass a great portion of their lives among thickets and hedges, they are provided for the defence of their eyes from external injuries, as well as from the effects of the light, when flying in opposition to the rays of the sun, with a nictating or winking membrane, which can, at pleasure, be drawn over the whole eye like a curtain. This covering is neither opaque nor wholly pellucid, but is somewhat transparent; and it is by its means that the eagle is said to be able to gaze at the sun. “In birds,” says a writer on this subject, “we find that the sight is much more piercing, extensive, and exact, than in the other orders of animals. The eye is much larger in proportion to the bulk of the head, than in any of these. This is a superiority conferred upon them not without a corresponding utility: it seems even indispensable to their safety and subsistence. Were this organ in birds dull, or in the least degree opaque, they would be in danger, from the rapidity of their motion, of striking against various objects in their flight. In this case their celerity, instead of being an advantage, would become an evil, and their flight be restrained by the danger resulting from it. Indeed we may consider the velocity with which an animal moves, as a sure indication of the perfection of its vision. Among the quadrupeds, the sloth has its sight greatly limited; whilst the hawk, as it hovers in the air, can espy a lark sitting on a clod, perhaps at twenty times the distance at which a man or a dog could perceive it.”

Birds respire by means of air-vessels, that are extended through the whole body, and adhere to the under surface of the bones. These, by their motion, force the air through the true lungs, which are very small, somewhat of the shape of the human lungs, and are seated in the uppermost part of the chest and closely braced down to the back and ribs. The lungs which are never expanded by air, are destined for the sole purpose of oxydating the blood. Mr. John Hunter made a variety of experiments to discover the use of this general diffusion of air through the bodies of birds; and from these he found, that it prevents their respiration from being stopped or interrupted by the rapidity of their motion through a resisting medium. The resistance of the air increases in proportion to the celerity of the motion; and were it possible for a man to move with a swiftness equal to that of a Swallow, the resistance of the air, as he is not provided with reservoirs similar to those of birds, would soon suffocate him.

920. Amongst the many peculiarities in the Construction of Birds, not the least is the mode by which their respiration is accomplished. This is effected by means of air-vessels, which extend throughout the body, and adhere to the under-surface of the bones. These, by their motion, force the air through the true lungs, which are very small, and placed in the uppermost part of the chest, and closely braced down to the back and ribs. The lungs, which are never expanded by air, are destined to the sole purpose of oxidizing the blood. In the experiments made by Mr. John Hunter, to discover the use of this general diffusion of air through the bodies of birds, he found that it prevents their respiration from being stopped or interrupted by the rapidity of their motion through a resisting medium. It is well known that, in proportion to celerity of motion, the air becomes resistive; and were it possible for a man to move with the swiftness of a swallow, as he is not provided with an internal construction similar to that of birds, the resistance of the air would soon suffocate him.

The abode of these tribes is very various; for they inhabit every corner of the world, from the hottest to the coldest regions. Some species are confined to particular countries; others are widely dispersed; and many change their abode at certain seasons of the year, and migrate to climates better suited to their temperament or mode of life, for a certain period, than those which they leave. Many of the birds of our own island, directed by a peculiar and unerring instinct, retire, before the commencement of the cold season, to the southern parts of Africa, and again return in the spring. The causes usually assigned for migration are, either a defect of food, or the want of a secure and proper asylum for incubation and the nutrition of their young. They generally perform their migrations in large companies; and, in the day, follow a leader, who is occasionally changed. Many of the tribes make a continual cry during the night in order to keep themselves together.

[Here Bingley quotes a few lines from Paradise Lost]

921. Birds are Distributed over every part of the Globe, being found in the coldest as well as the hottest regions, although some species are restricted to particular countries, whilst others are widely dispersed. At certain seasons of the year, many of them change their abodes, and migrate to climates better adapted to their temperaments or modes of life, for a time, than those which they leave. Many of the birds of Britain, directed by an unerring instinct, take their departure from the island before the commencement of winter, and proceed to the more congenial warmth of Africa, to return with the next spring. The causes assigned by naturalists for this peculiarity are, either a deficiency of food, or the want of a secure asylum for the incubation and nourishment of their young. Their migrations are generally performed in large companies, and, in the day, they follow a leader, which is occasionally changed. During the night, many of the tribes send forth a continual cry, to keep themselves together; although one would think that the noise which must accompany their flight would be sufficient for that purpose.

The flights of birds across the Mediterranean were recorded nearly three thousand years ago. “There went forth a wind from the Lord, and brought Quails from the sea, and let them fall upon the camp, and a day’s journey round about it, to the height of two cubits above the earth.”*

It appears from very accurate observations, founded on numerous experiments, that the peculiar notes, or song, of the different species of Birds, are altogether acquired, and are no more innate than language is in man. The attempt of a nestling bird to sing, may be exactly compared with the imperfect endeavour of a child to talk. The first essay seems not to possess the slightest rudiments of the future song; but, as the bird grows older and stronger, it is not difficult to perceive what it is aiming at. Whilst the scholar is thus endeavouring to form his song, when he is once sure of a passage, he commonly raises his tone, which he drops again when he is not equal to what he is attempting.

922. If the Beauty of Birds were not a recommendation to their being universally admired, their general liveliness, gaiety, and song would endear them to mankind. It appears, however, from accurate observations founded upon experiment, that the notes peculiar to different kinds of birds are altogether acquired, and that they are not innate, any more than language is to man. The attempt of a nestling bird to sing has been compared to the endeavour of a child to talk. The first attempts do not seem to possess the slightest rudiments of the future song; but, as the bird grows older and becomes stronger, it is easily perceived to be aiming at acquiring the art of giving utterance to song. Whilst the scholar is thus endeavouring to form his notes, when he is once sure of a passage, he usually raises his tone, but drops it again when he finds himself unequal to the voluntary task he has undertaken.

These, and other well-authenticated facts, seem to prove decisively, that Birds have no innate notes, but that, like mankind, the language of those to whose care they are committed at birth will be the language they adopt in after life. It may, however, seem somewhat unaccountable, from these observations, why, in a wild state, they adhere so steadily to the song of their own species only, when so many others are to be heard around them. This arises from the attention paid by the nestling bird to the instructions of its own parent only, generally disregarding the notes of all the rest. Persons, however, who have an accurate ear, and have studied the notes of different Birds, can very often distinguish some that have a song mixed with those of another species; but these are in general so trifling, as can scarcely be looked upon as any thing more than mere varieties of provincial dialects.

The food of Birds is, of course, very different in the different kinds. Some are altogether carnivorous; others, as many of the web-footed tribes, live on fish; some on insects and worms, and many on fruits or grain.—The extraordinary powers of the gizzard in the granivorous tribes, in comminuting their hard food, so as to prepare it for digestion, would, were they not supported by incontrovertible facts founded on experiment, appear to exceed all credibility.

923. In Reference to the Food of Birds, we find that it varies, as it does in quadrupeds, according to the species. Some are altogether carnivorous; others, as so many of the web-footed tribes, subsist on fish; others, again, on insects and worms; and others on grain and fruit. The extraordinary powers of the gizzard of the granivorous tribes, in comminuting their food so as to prepare it for digestion, would, were they not supported by incontrovertible facts founded on experiment, appear to exceed all credibility.

All Birds are oviparous, or produce eggs, from which, after the process of incubation, or sitting for a certain length of time, the young are extruded. These eggs differ in the different species, both in number, figure, and colour. They contain the rudiments of the future young; for the maturation and bringing to perfection of which, in the incubation, a bubble of air is always placed at the large end, betwixt the shell and the inside skin. It is supposed that, from the warmth communicated by the sitting Bird to this confined air, its spring is increased beyond its natural tenor, and at the same time its parts are put into motion by the gentle rarefaction. Hence pressure and motion are communicated to the parts of the egg, which in some unknown manner gradually promote the formation and growth of the young till the appointed time of its exclusion. Housewives, when they suspect an egg is not good, put their tongue to the great end to feel if it be warm: if that is not the case, it is considered a certain proof that, the air having by degrees made its escape, the egg is at length become putrid or addled.*

924. All Birds being Oviparous, the eggs which they produce after the process of incubation, or sitting for a certain length of time, are, in the various species, different both in figure and colour, as well as in point of number. They contain the elements of the future young, for the perfecting of which in the incubation a bubble of air is always placed at the large end, between the shell and the inside skin. It is supposed that from the heat communicated by the sitting bird to this confined air, its spring is increased beyond its natural tenor, and, at the same time, its parts are put into motion by the gentle rarefaction. By this means, pressure and motion are communicated to the parts of the egg, which, in some inscrutable way, gradually promote the formation and growth of the young, till the time comes for its escaping from the shell.

* M. Reaumur, the celebrated French naturalist, who seldom confined his speculations to mere curiosity, has shewn that, by stopping up the ports of an egg with varnish or a slight covering of mutton suet, it may be preserved perfectly fresh, and generally even fit for incubation, for five or six months after it has been laid.

The nests of Birds are, in general, constructed with astonishing art; and with a degree of architectural skill and propriety, that would foil all the boasted imitative talents of man, the haughty lord of the creation.

925. Birds, however, do not lay eggs before they have some place to put them; accordingly, they construct nests for themselves with astonishing art. As builders, they exhibit a degree of architectural skill, niceness, and propriety, that would seem even to mock the imitative talents of man, however greatly those are marked by his own high intelligence and ingenuity.

Both the male and female generally assist in this interesting concern. They each bring materials to the place: first sticks, moss, or straws, for the foundation and exterior; then hair, wool, or the down of animals or plants, to form a soft and commodious bed for their eggs, and the bodies of their tender young when hatched. The outsides of the nests bear in general so great a resemblance in colour to the surrounding foliage or brandies, as not easily to be discovered even by persons who are in search of them.

This act of nidification is one of those wonderful contri­vances of nature that would compel us, however we might otherwise be inclined to doubt it, to believe that we, and every other part of the creation, are constantly under the protection of a superintending Being, whose goodness knows no bounds. Without this, what can we suppose . . . .

A hen sate about in corners, and neither ate, drank, nor evacuated, yet looked full and not diseased. Her CROP was totally obstructed. On an incision being made from the bottom upwards, a quantity of new beans was found, which had vegetated. The wound being stitched properly, immedi­ately healed, and the hen suffered little inconvenience.

Obstruction of the crop is occasioned by weakness or greediness. You may know when a bird is so afflicted by his crop being distended almost to bursting. Mowbray tells of a hen of his in this predicament; when the crop was opened, a quantity of new beans were discovered in a state of vegetation.

Buffon enumerates upwards of thirty VARIETIES of the pigeon, which, according to his usual systematic plan, its convenience perhaps being rather more obvious than its accuracy, he derives from one root, namely, the STOCK-DOVE, or common wild pigeon. All the varieties of colour and form which we witness, he attributes to human contrivance and fancy. There exist, nevertheless, essential specific differences in these birds, which seem rather attributable to the nature of the region, soil, or climate, to which they are indigenous, than to the art of man.

The Wood, or Wild Pigeon.—Buffon enumerates upwards of thirty varieties of the pigeon, which he derives from one root,—viz. the stockdove, or common wild pigeon. All the varieties of colour and form which we witness, he attributes to human contrivance and fancy. Nevertheless, there exist essentially specific differences in these birds, which would appear to be attributable rather to the nature of the region, soil, and climate to which they are indigenous, than to the art and ingenuity of man.

THE WILD PIGEON.

This bird, from being the parent stock whence all the varieties of the Domestic-pigeon are derived, is often called the Stock-dove. It is still found in many parts of our island in a wild state: forming its nest in holes of rocks, and old towers, and in the hollows of trees; but never, like the Ring-dove, on the boughs.

Multitudes of Wild-pigeons visit us in the winter, from their more northerly summer retreats; appearing about November, and again retiring (except a few that breed with us) in the spring. While the beech woods were suffered to cover large tracts of ground, these birds used to haunt them in myriads, frequently extending above a mile in length as they went out in a morning to feed.

Sect. XXII.
BLACK GROUSE.

2086. This bird, called also the black cock, or moor fowl, is larger than the red grouse, the male weighing sometimes four pounds, and the female two pounds. It is also less common, and therefore more highly prized. It is met with nowhere in Britain but in the Highlands of Scotland and the mountainous heaths of the north of England. Its plumage is a rich mixture of black and blue relieved by markings of white, and its legs are covered with very minute feathers. The form of its tail is remarkable, branching into two crooked expansions. Its food is similar to that of the last described bird. Vast numbers of these birds are found in Norway of large size, being nearly equal to turkeys; and of late many have been imported into London, and sold in the shops; but these are not equal in flavour to the Scotch smaller kind.

Grouse.—Under this general term are included several species of game birds, called black, red, woodland, and white grouse. The black is larger than the red (see No. 1025), and is not so common, and therefore held in higher estimation.

Sect. XXI.
RED GROUSE.

2085. The beautiful plumage and exquisite flavour of this bird render it an object of considerable interest. It appears to be a native of Scotland and the north of England, in the mountainous districts of which it is found by sportsmen in great plenty feeding on various berries that grow among the heather, and also on the tops of this plant; hence it is often called moor game, or moor fowl. It does not undergo any change of colour in winter, but acquires a greater mass of clothing, and its legs become covered with a sort of hair-like feathers. The breeding season is early in the spring, and the brood continue in company for some months, sometimes joining others which range the high moorlands, where they are shy, and difficult to be approached. Their colour is a rich chesnut barred with black.

Sect. XXIII.
WOODLAND GROUSE.

2087. This is likewise called the “cock of the wood,” and is the largest among the birds which we denominate game, it being little less than the turkey. It was originally common in the mountains of Britain, but is now nearly extinct with us, occurring only in the Highlands of Scotland, though still abounding in the north of Europe, Germany, and the Alps, where it lives in pine forests, on the cones of which it is supposed to subsist, and which, at some seasons, gives its flesh a terebinthinated taste. It is in general delicious eating, and is sometimes sent to England preserved in ice. From the great delicacy of its flesh, it is to be lamented that sufficient means have not been taken to domesticate it, which it is supposed by some sportsmen would be very practicable. Its plumage is extremely beautiful.

Sect. XXIV.
WHITE GROUSE.

2088. The white grouse, or ptarmigan, is found in the British isles, though not plentifully; the London market is supplied from Scotland and Norway, those from the latter country being preferred. When young it is excellent, and little different from common grouse. At Hudson’s Bay they are in such flocks, that sixty or seventy are often taken in a net at once; and as they are as tame as chickens, they are driven into the nets without difficulty. A ptarmigan will weigh a pound and a half.

When the pheasant is in that condition it should be plucked, and not before.

When the pheasant is in good condition to be cooked (see No. 1041), it should be plucked, and not before.

The bird should then be stuffed, and in the following manner:

Take two snipe and draw them so as to put the birds on one plate, and the livers, etc., on another.

Take the flesh and mingle it with beef, lard and herbes fines, adding also salt and truffles enough to fill the stomach of the pheasant.

Cut a slice of bread larger, considerably, than the pheasant, and cover it with the liver, etc., and a few truffles. An anchovy and a little fresh butter will do no harm.

Put the pheasant on this preparation, and when it is boiled surround it with Florida oranges. Do not be uneasy about your dinner.

Put the bread, &c., into the dripping-pan, and, when the bird is roasted, place it on the preparation, and surround it with Florida oranges.

Do not be uneasy, Savarin adds, about your dinner;

Drink burgundy after this dish, for long experience has taught me that it is the proper wine.

A pheasant served in this way is a fit dish for angels, if they visited the world as they did in Lot’s day.

What I say, experience has already proved. A pheasant thus stuffed by Picard at La Grange* was brought on the table by the cook himself. It was looked on by the ladies as they would have looked at one of Mary Herbault’s hats. It was scientifically tasted, and in the interim the ladies eyes shone like stars, and their lips became coral.

I did more than this; I gave a similar proof to the judges of the supreme court. They are aware that the toga is sometimes to be laid aside, and I was able to show to several that good cheer was a fit companion and reward for the labors of the senate. After a few moments the oldest judge uttered the word excellent. All bowed, and the court adopted the decision. I had observed that the venerable old men seemed to take great delight in smelling the dish, and that their august brows were agitated by expressions of extreme serenity, something like a half smile hanging on their lips.

All this thing, however is naturally accounted for. The pheasant, itself, a very good bird, had imbibed the dressing and the flavor of the truffle and snipe. It thus becomes thrice better.

* Does he refer to La Fayette’s estate?

Almonds, the fruit of Amygdalus communis, are produced throughout the whole of the south of Europe, Syria, Persia, and Northern Africa, but our supplies are obtained from Spain and the South of France. They are distinguished into Bitter and Sweet almonds, the former being the produce of a variety of the common almond, called Amygdalus communis amara, and the latter of A. c. dulcis. There are two varieties of the sweet almond, distinguished in commerce by the names of Jordan and Valentia almonds; the former are imported from Malaga, and are longer, narrower, more pointed, and more highly esteemed than the latter; and the latter are brought from Valentia. Bitter almonds are obtained chiefly from Morocco and are exported from Mogador.

1219. Almonds.—Almonds are the fruit of the Amygdalus communis, and are cultivated throughout the whole of the south of Europe, Syria, Persia, and Northern Africa; but England is mostly supplied with those which are grown in Spain and the south of France. They are distinguished into Sweet and Bitter, the produce of different varieties. Of the sweet, there are two varieties, distinguished in commerce by the names of Jordan and Valentia almonds. The former are imported from Malaga, and are longer, narrower, more pointed, and more highly esteemed than the latter, which are imported from Valentia. Bitter almonds are principally obtained from Morocco, and are exported from Mogador.

1221. Uses of the Sweet Almond.—The kernels of the sweet almond are used either in a green or ripe state, and as an article in the dessert. Into cookery, confectionery, perfumery, and medicine, they largely enter, and in domestic economy, should always be used in preference to bitter almonds. The reason for advising this, is because the kernels do not contain any hydrocyanic or prussic acid, although it is found in the leaves, flowers, and bark of the tree. When young and green, they are preserved in sugar, like green apricots. They furnish the almond-oil; and the farinaceous matter which is left after the oil is expressed, forms the pâte d’amandes of perfumers. In the arts, the oil is employed for the some purposes as the olive-oil, and forms the basis of kalydor, macassar oil, Gowland’s lotion, and many other articles of that kind vended by perfumers. In medicine, it is considered a nutritive, laxative, and an emollient.

1220. Bitter Almonds.—The Bitter Almond is a variety of the common almond, and is injurious to animal life, on account of the great quantity of hydrocyanic acid it contains, and is consequently seldom used in domestic economy, unless it be to give flavour to confectionery; and even then it should be used with great caution. A single drop of the essential oil of bitter almonds is sufficient to destroy a bird, and four drops have caused the death of a middle-sized dog.

1222. The Husks of Almonds.—In the environs of Alicante, the husks of almonds are ground to a powder, and enter into the composition of common soap, the large quantity of alkaline principle they contain rendering them suitable for this purpose. It is said that in some parts of the south of France, where they are extensively grown, horses and mules are fed on the green and dry husks; but, to prevent any evil consequences arising from this practice, they are mixed with chopped straw or oats.

There is a current opinion among women, which every year causes the death of many young women, that acids, especially vinegar, are preventatives of obesity.

Lemonade.—“There is a current opinion among women,” says Brillat Savarin, “which every year causes the death of many young women,—that acids, especially vinegar, are preventives of obesity.

Beyond all doubts, acids have the effect of destroying obesity, but they also destroy health and freshness. Lemonade is of all acids the most harmless, but few stomachs can resist it long.

The truth I wish to announce cannot be too public, and almost all of my readers can bring forward some fact to sustain it.

I knew in 1776, at Dijon, a young lady of great beauty, to whom I was attached by bonds of friendship, great almost as those of love. One day when she had for some time gradually grown pale and thin (previously she had a delicious embonpoint) she told me in confidence that as her young friends had ridiculed her for being too fat, she had, to counteract the tendency, been in the habit every day of drinking a large glass of vinaigre.

I shuddered at the confession, and made every attempt to avoid the danger. I informed her mother of the state of things the next day, and as she adored her daughter, she was as much alarmed as I was. The doctors were sent for, but in vain, for before the cause of her malady was suspected, it was incurable and hopeless.

Thus, in consequence of having followed imprudent advice, our amiable Louise was led to the terrible condition of marasmus, and sank when scarcely eighteen years old, to sleep forever.

She died casting longing looks towards a future, which to her would have no existence, and the idea that she had involuntarily attempted her own life, made her existence more prompt and painful.

I have never seen any one else die; she breathed her last in my arms, as I lifted her up to enable her to see the day. Eight days after her death, her broken hearted mother wished me to visit with her the remains of her daughter, and we saw an extatic appearance which had not hitherto been visible. I was amazed, but extracted some consolation from the fact. This however is not strange, for Lavater tells of many such in his history of physiognomy.