The tradition is current among housekeepers that there is great economy in buying supplies in large quantities. The learned of them will dilate upon the amount that may be saved by getting flour, sugar, and potatoes by the barrel, butter by the tub, coffee by the bag. They prove to you that you can put money in your pocket by purchasing a crate of eggs at a time and pickling them for winter use. They buy meat in the piece, as it were, and tell you triumphantly how much they can thus save on a pound over the ordinary retail price.

While all these data are useful and encouraging to the woman who has big pantries and a roomy cellar, they strike dismay to the heart of her who must perforce dwell in a flat. There is no place in her apartment for a barrel of flour. If that came in, one of the family would probably have to go out. The mere thought of buying a bushel of potatoes at a time seems like a dream of extravagance, and in her moments of wildest unreason she never contemplated a barrel of sugar.

So when she reads or hears all these wise counsels of notable housewives her heart sinks within her, and she feels that she is an extravagant wretch who wastes her income, in that she buys sugar and butter by the pound, potatoes by the quart or ''small measure," and eggs by the dozen, or "quarter's worth," as they say in the vicinity of New York. What does it matter that her family is small and would take a week to consume a quarter of mutton ? According to the best judges, she cannot practise true economy unless she buys her provisions in bulk.

After a while, if she is a woman of spirit, she plucks up heart and begins to do a little figuring and make a few estimates on her own account. And if she is clear-headed and practical she finds before long that there may be as much economy in her mode of living as there is in that of her neighbor who has larder-room to spare; for there are undoubted advantages in buying provisions in small quantities. In the face of much evidence to the contrary, one housekeeper might hesitate to make this assertion, were she not backed up by the testimony of the thrifty French, who bear the reputation among all nations of having reduced - or elevated - elegant economy to a science. The French housewife never buys her supplies in large quantities. Not only bread and milk, but butter, potatoes, flour, sugar, and the like are bought by the day. So closely does she calculate that frequently there is not enough left in the pantry at bedtime to provide the scantiest of breakfasts. The Italians follow the same plan, and literally live by the day.

All the traditions of the American housekeeper are against her following their example to the extreme. Yet she knows that the system has merit, and after she has modified it to suit New World ideas she pursues it with exceeding peace of mind and pocket.

In the first place she sees that she would save little money in buying dry groceries by the large quantity, and that little would be more than lost by the extravagance generally induced by having a practically unlimited supply of any commodity in the house. Such extravagance is not confined to hirelings. The careful housekeeper herself feels it when she takes advantage of the tub of butter just come from the country, or the full barrel of sugar, to make costly dainties. She would think several times before she made pound cake or fruit cake or puff paste if she had to send to the grocer's and pay ready money for the ingredients. She finds that where this is to be done both she and the cook are more prudent.

Another advantage gained is that of knowing exactly what she consumes in the week. When she buys three and a half pounds of sugar, a pound of butter, and a dozen eggs on Saturday, she knows just about how long these should last. If there is a waste, she can check it promptly, and she can estimate pretty nearly what her housekeeping bills should be at the end of the week.

There is extra labor avoided by her system. For her there are no unpleasant hours spent in picking over apples, potatoes, and winter vegetables. She has not to count upon a certain amount of loss from rotting and withering. Her grocer bears that loss. His shop is her pantry, to which she goes and gets her vegetables and fruit by the quart or the half dozen. There will be no maggots in the corn-meal or Graham flour when she gets only two or three pounds of it at a time. If a freshly opened package of oatmeal is musty she knows it reached that state on the grocer's shelves, and sends it back to him forthwith. The coffee in her small canister cannot lose its strength, for it is constantly used and constantly renewed. Butter never grows rancid, eggs never become stale, on her hands. Sufficient unto the day are her provisions and the good and the evil thereof. Even when she buys meat she has her points of privilege ; for, as she says wisely, where is the advantage of getting so much of one thing that it is impossible to eat it all ? She shows wisdom when she purchases her meat as she needs it. She finds the economy of small cuts. She does not get a leg of lamb at sixteen cents a 26 pound, but the shoulder at ten cents a pound, and finds it no whit inferior to the higher-priced piece. A well-cut "Delmon-ico " or "short" steak is as juicy and tender as a sirloin. A small roast may be as well cooked with care as a large one. She acquires a fine taste in ragouts, salmis, scallops, and croquettes, and it is gradually borne in upon her that there is a common-sense foundation for the apparent paradox that pronounces the French nation the best cooks and the most economical providers of the civilized world.

C. T. H