these tender victims. We read of pigs whipped to death with something of a shock, as we hear of any other obsolete custom. The age of discipline is gone by, or it would be curious to inquire (in a philosophical light merely) what effect this process might have towards intenerating and dulcifying a substance naturally so mild and dulcet as the flesh of young pigs. It looks like refining a violet. Yet we should be cautious, while we condemn the inhumanity, how we censure the wisdom of the practice. It might impart a gusto. "I remember an hypothesis argued upon by the young students when I was at St. Omer's and maintained with much learning and pleasantry on both sides, whether, supposing that the flavour of a pig who obtained his death by whipping (per flagellationem extremam) superadded a pleasure upon the palate of a man more intense than any possible suffering we can conceive in the animal, is man justified in using that method of putting the animal to death?' I forget the decision.” * A true gastronome is as insensible to suffering as a conqueror. Ude discourses thus on the skinning of eels: "Take one or two live eels; throw them into the fire; as they are twisting about on all sides, lay hold of them with a towel in your hand, and skin them from head to tail. This method is the best, as it is the only method of drawing out all the oil, which is unpalatable and indigestible. Cut the eel in pieces without ripping the belly, then run your knife into the hollow part, and turn it round to take out the inside. "Several reviewers," (he adds in a note to his second edition) "have accused me of cruelty because I recommend in this work that eels should be burnt alive. As my As my knowledge in cookery is entirely devoted to the gratification of taste and the preservation of health, I consider it my duty to attend to what is essential to both. The blue skin and oil which remain, when the eels are skinned, render them highly indigestible. If any of these reviewers would make trial of both methods, they would find that the burnt eels are much healthier; but it is, after all, left to their choice whether to burn or skin." * Dissertation on Roast Pig, "Essays of Elia," First Series. The argumentum ad gulam is here very logically applied; but M. Ude might have taken higher ground, and urged not merely that the eel was used to skinning, but gloried in it. It was only necessary for him to endow the eel with the same noble spirit of endurance that has been attributed to the goose. "To obtain these livers (the foies gras of Strasbourg) of the size required, it is necessary," says a writer in the Almanach,' "to sacrifice the person of the animal. Crammed with food, deprived of drink, and fixed near a great fire, before which it is nailed by its feet upon a plank, this goose passes, it must be owned, an uncomfortable life. The torment would indeed be altogether intolerable if the idea of the lot which awaits him did not serve as a consolation. But this perspective makes him endure his sufferings with courage; and when he reflects that his liver, bigger than himself, larded with truffles, and clothed in a scientific pâté, will, through the instrumentality of M. Corcellet, diffuse all over Europe the glory of his name, he resigns himself to his destiny, and suffers not a tear to flow." Should it, notwithstanding, be thought that the theory of C. Lamb, M. Ude, or M. Corcellet, as regards pigs, eels, or geese, is indefensible, we may still say of them as Berchoux says of Nero : — "Je sais qu'il fut cruel, assassin, suborneur, When climbing-boys first became the object of popular sympathy, a distinguished member of the Humane Society suggested that a chimney might be * One of the most important services rendered by Mr. Bentham and his disciples to the world is a formal refutation of the common fallacy as to eels. "No eel is used to be skinned successively by several persons; but one and the same person is used successively to skin several eels." So says the sage in the last of his works, the pamphlet entitled "Boa Constrictor." swept by dragging a live goose from the bottom to the top. To the obvious objection on the score of humanity, he replied that, if it was thought wrong to impose this curious imitation of keel-hauling on the goose, a couple of ducks might do as well. Identically the same line of argument has been opened to the gastronomer by the discovery that the liver of the Toulouse duck is even better than that of the Strasbourg goose. Revenons à nos cochons. The late Duke of Cambridge, being on a visit at Belvoir Castle for the celebration of its popular and munificent owner's birthday on the 4th of January, was shown the bill of fare for the day, admirably imagined by an admirable chef, and was asked whether there was anything else that he fancied. Yes," answered his Royal Highness; "a roast pig and an apple dumpling." Messengers were despatched in all directions, and at length a pig was found, notwithstanding the season. 66 The delicacy of a roasting pig, except in the case of flagellation, depends on his being nurtured exclusively on mother's milk from his birth to his dying day. The delicacy of pork is ineffably enhanced by giving the pig the full enjoyment of fresh air, combined with moderate warmth and strict cleanliness. It is therefore fortunate that the nurture and education of this animal have become a fashionable rural pursuit with the fair sex. An acquaintance of ours (Lady Young, of Baillieborough Castle, County Cavan,) actually placed a pig of more than ordinary promise under the exclusive care of a female attendant, with directions to give him a warm bath every day, and the result was eminently prosperous. Diet, of course, is of primary importance. According to Mr. Ford, the animals which produce the famous Montanches hams, manage to exist in summer-time on the snakes which abound in the district-Mons anguis-and fatten rapidly in the autumn on the sweet acorns those magnificent acorns, a parcel of which was deemed by Sancho's wife a becoming present for her husband's friend the duchess. The Montanches hams are les petits jambons vermeils, commemorated by St. Simon (who describes them as fattened exclusively upon vipers), and they must be carefully distinguished from the Gallician and Catalan hams. Our familiarity with them, as with whatever else is worth imitating in the Spanish cuisine, is derived from Mr. Ford.* The only place at which we ever saw the genuine Montanches hams for sale in this country, is Morell's. Mr. Morell is a man of cultivated taste, well read in the "Physiologie du Goût," and imbued with much of its spirit. He knows, and will say at once, whether he can supply the genuine article or not. The late Mr. Beckford sent for him one Sunday at mid-day, and set him down to lunch on Westphalia ham and Silleri champagne, desiring him, if they turned out to be of first-rate quality, to buy up all the hams and wine of the same kind which he could find on sale. The decision was not favourable; indeed, Mr. Morell is of opinion that Silleri is greatly over-estimated in England, and that Westphalia hams have deteriorated since the demand for them has increased. This is equally true of Spanish hams. He says that the dressing of a ham is one of the most difficult and trying of culinary operations, and is seldom well performed except by those who have made it their special study. Mr. Ford rightly contends that a Montanches ham is best hot; but we have somewhere read or heard that a man who would eat hot ham, would kill a pig with his own hand. We turn, by an unforced transition, from hams * See his "Spanish Handbook," vol. i. p. 68; or his dinner-table, at 7h. 30m. P.M. to salads, which have taxed the ingenuity of the wisest and the wittiest. Sydney Smith's poetical recipe will be found in the Appendix. According to the Spanish proverb, four persons are wanted to make a good salad; a spendthrift for oil, a miser for vinegar, a counsellor for salt, and a madman to stir all up. The sauce should be kept in a separate bowl, and not be poured over the rest of the materials until the moment before the salad is to be eaten. It is surprising that such a proficient as Mr. Walker, when talking of excellence in salad, should mention "drying the leaves of the lettuce." It is, to use his own words, "abandoning the principle and adopting some expedient." Lettuces ought never to be wetted; they thus lose their crispness, and are pro tanto destroyed. If you can get nothing but wet lettuces, you had certainly better dry them; but if you wish for a good salad, cut your lettuce fresh from the garden, take off the outside leaves, cut or rather break it into a salad bowl, and then mix. The comparative merits of pies and puddings present a problem which it is no easy matter to decide. On the whole, we give the preference to puddings, as affording more scope to the inventive genius of the cook; but we must insist on a little more precaution in preparing them. A plum-pudding, for instance, our national dish, is hardly ever boiled enough; and we have sometimes found ourselves, in England, in the same distressing predicament in which Lord Byron once found himself in Italy. He had made up his mind to have a plum-pudding on his birthday, and busied himself a whole morning in giving minute directions to prevent the chance of a mishap; yet, after all the pains he had taken, and the anxiety he must have undergone, it appeared in a tureen, and about the consistency of soup. "Upon this failure in the production (says our authority) he was fre |