In my tedious progress through these books, I often wished the authors had been satisfied with giving us the results of their own practice and experience*, instead of idly perpetuating the errors and prejudices of their predecessors, by copying the strange, unaccountable, and uselessly extravagant farragos, and heterogeneous compositions*, which fill their pages; combinations which no rational being would ever think of either dressing or eating, and without having applied both these tests, and ascertaining the practicability of preparing their receipts, and their eatability when done, they should never have ventured to recommend them to others; so that the reader may put the same quaere, as Jeremy, in Congreve's comedy of "Love for Love" when Valentine observes, "There's a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor." - Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?"

* Thomas Carter, in the preface to his "City and Country Cook" London, 1738, says, "What I have published, is almost the only book, one or two excepted, which oflate years has come into the world, that has been the result of the author's own practice and experience: for though very few eminent practical cooks have ever cared to publish what they knew of the art; yet they have been prevailed on, for a small premium from a bookseller, to lend their names to performances in this art, unworthy their owning."

Robert May,in the introduction to his "Accomplished Cook," 1665, says, " To all honest and well-intending persons of my profession, and others, this book cannot but be acceptable, as it plainly and profitably discovers the mystery of the whole art; for which, though I may be envied by some, that only value their private interests above posterity and the public good; yet, (he adds,) God and my own conscience would not permit me to bury these, my experiences, with my silver hairs in the grave.

Half of these books are made up with pages cut out of obsolete works, such as the "Choice Manuel of Secrets," the "True Gentlewoman's Delight" etc. of as much use, in this age of refinement, as the following curious quotation from "The Accomplished Lady's rich Closet of Rarities, or ingenious Gentlewoman's Delightful Com-panion" 12mo., London, 1653, chapter 7, page 42: "A gentlewoman being at table, abroad or at home, must observe to keep her body straight, and lean not by any means with her elbows, nor by ravenous gesture discover a voracious appetite; take not in your wine too greedily, nor drink not till you are out of breath, but do things with decency and order, gnaw no bones, keep your fingers from your mouth, throw not any thing over your shoulders:" with the addition of what they call "a choice collection of excellent and approved family receipts of sovereign efficacy in all manner of maladies:" the proper appellation for which would be, "a dangerous budget of medical vulgar errors;" commonly concluding with a bundle of extracts from "The Gardener's Calendar," "The Vintner's Fade Mecum," and "The Publican's Daily Companion." But let us remember, that "One science only will one genius fit, So wide is art, so narrow human wit."

* To farce (the culinary technical for to stuff,) a boiled leg of mutton with red herrings and garlick, and many other receipts of as high a relish; and easy of digestion as the devil's venison, i. e. a roasted tiger stuffed withtenpenny nails.

And without interfering' with the physician or the gardener, the publican or the vintner, our Book will be confined to the business of the kitchen, to endeavour to improve the ignorant, and remind the skilful, bow and when to make the best and the most of every thing. I have taken very great pains to teach the young cook how to perform, in the best manner, the common business of her profession; and being well grounded in that, she will find it easy to do all the rest to satisfaction, and will be able to shew, that an English girl, properly instructed, can equal the best foreign gentleman in every thing, except impudence and extravagance, and send up a delicious dinner with half the usual expense and trouble. I have endeavoured to lessen the labour of those who wish to be thoroughly acquainted with their profession; and they will find, that an attentive perusal of the following pages will save them much of the irksome drudgery attending an apprenticeship at the stove; an ordeal so severe, that few pass it without irreparable injury to their health, whilst many lose their lives before they learn their business. "Cleanliness, and a proper ventilation to carry off smoke and steam, should be particularly attended to in the construction of a kitchen; and the grand scene of action, the fireplace, should be placed where it may receive plenty of light: hitherto the contrary has prevailed, and the poor cook is continually basted with his own perspiration." - A. C. Junr.*

* A good dinner is one of the greatest enjoyments of human life; and the practice of cookery is attended with not only so many disgusting and disagreeable circumstances, but even dangers, that we ought to have some regard for those who encounter them for our pleasure, and to reward their attention, by rendering their situation every way as agreeable and comfortable as we can, for mere money is not a sufficient compensation to a complete cook.

To say nothing of the deleterious vapours and exhalations of the charcoal, which soon undermine the health of the heartiest, the glare of a vivid scorching fire, and the smoke so baneful to the eyes and the complexion: these are continual and inevitable dangers, and a cook, must live in the midst of them, as a soldier in a field of battle, surrounded by bullets, and bombs, and Congreve's rockets; with this only difference, that for the first, every day is a fighting day, that his warfare is almost always without glory; and his most praiseworthy achievements pass not only without reward, but frequently without even thanks; for the name of the most consummate cook is, alas! seldom heard by the guests who frequent his master's table; who, while they are eagerly devouring his turtle, and drinking his wine, care very little who dressed the one, or sent the other.