WE are often told by men of old time, whose long connection with the country entitles them to speak with the confidence of "fellows who know, don't yon know," that in inverse proportion, as it were, to the steady advance of civilization in India, the sublime art of curry-making has gradually passed away from the native cook. Elders at Madras - erst-while the acknowledged head-centre of the craft - shake their heads and say "Icha-bod!" and if encouraged to do so, paint beautiful mouth-watering "pictures in words" of succulent morsels cunningly dressed with all the savoury spices and condiments of Ind, the like of which, they say, we ne'er shall look upon again.

Looking back myself to the hour of my arrival in India, I call to mind the kind-hearted veteran who threw his doors open to me, and, pouring in the oil and wine of lavish hospitality, set me upon his own beast, killed the fatted calf, and treated me, indeed, as a son that had been lost and was found. It rejoiced this fine old servant of honest John Company, I remember, to give "tiffin" parties at which he prided himself on sending round eight or nine varieties of curries, with divers platters of freshly-made chutneys, grilled ham, preserved roes of fishes, etc. The discussion of the "course," - a little banquet in itself - used to occupy at least half an hour, for it was the correct thing to taste each curry, and to call for those that specially gratified you a second time.

Now, this my friend was, I take it, a type of the last Anglo-Indian generation; a generation that fostered the art of curry-making, and bestowed as much attention to it as we, in these days of grace, do to copying the culinary triumphs of the lively Gauls.

Thirty years ago fair house-keepers were wont to vaunt themselves upon their home-made curry powders, their chutneys, tamarind and roselle jellies, and so forth, and carefully superintended the making thereof. But fashion has changed, and although ladies are, I think, quite as fond of a good curry as their grandmothers were, they ly take tlir trouble to gather round them the elements of success, and have ceased to be cumbered about this particular branch of their cook's work.

This is important point, for if we enquire closely into the causes that have led to the alleged decay of the curry-making knack, we shall certainly find that the chief of them is want of care in the preparation of powders and pastes, and the loss of recipes which in days gone by were wrapped in silver paper, and preserved with miniatures painted on ivory, locks of hair, love sonnets, and other precious secrets of a lady's escritoire.

I say "chief" advisedly, for there can be no doubt that modern improvements in our cuisine, and modern good taste, have assisted in a measure in elbowing off the once delectable plats of Indian origin; and that the best curry in the world would never be permitted to appear at a petit-diner composed by a good disciple of the new regime.

Curries now-a-days are only licensed to be eaten at breakfast, at luncheon, and perhaps at the little home dinner, when they may, for a change, occasionally form the piece de resistance of that cosy meal. Having thus lost "caste," so to speak, it ought hardly to surprise us that curries have deteriorated in quality. The old cooks, who studied the art, and were encouraged in its cultivation, have passed away to their happy hunting-grounds; and the sons and grandsons who now reign in their stead have been taught to devote themselves to more fashionable dishes.

While, however, it cannot be denied that the banishment of curries from the menu of our high-art banquets, both great and small, is, for many reasons, indispensably necessary, there can be no doubt that at mess and club dinners, at hotels, and at private houses, as already shown, these time-honoured dishes will always be welcome. Has not the time arrived then for us to endeavour to resuscitate the ancient cunning of our cooks, and to take some pains to attain that end ?

The actual cooking of a curry presents no special difficulty. A cook who is an adept with the stew-pan, and who has mastered the art of slow, and very gentle simmer-mjk will, whether a Frenchman, an Englishman, or a mild Hindu, soon become familiar with the treatment of this particular dish.

The knotty points are these :- First the powder or paste, next the accessories, and lastly the order in which the various component parts should be added.

Concerning powders, it behoves us to proceed with caution, or we shall soon lose ourselves in a maze of recipes. Speaking of them generally, however, it is not, I think, commonly known that curry-powders improve by keeping it carefully bottled. One of the causes of our daily failures is undoubtedly the lazy habit we have adopted of permitting our cooks to fabricate their "curry-stuff," on the spot, as it is required. Powder should be made in large quantities under the eye of the mistress of the house, or that of a really trustworthy head-servant. It should then be bottled, and corked securely down.

I shall presently give a very valuable receipt for a stock household powder, one that was surrendered to me by an accomplished chatelaine, on the eve of her departure from India, as a token of the sincerest friendship. But for those who wish to avoid trouble and yet to have good curries, I strongly advocate the use of Barrie's Madras curry-powder and paste. I am not employed as an advertising medium. My advice is not the advice of a "gent" travelling for Messrs. Barrie and Co., it is the honest exhortation of one, my friends, who has the success of your curries very closely at heart.

After more than twenty years' experience of Barrie's condiments, I say boldly, that I am aware of no preparations in the market that can equal them. At the "Oriental Depot," on the southern side of Leicester Square, - a sanctuary known, I fear, to too few Anglo-Indians at home - you can see, or could see, (for the little place may have been swept away for aught I know with Northumberland House, Temple Bar and other structures of renown), sundry casks of Barrie's curry-stuffs, chutneys, etc. I discovered the place by a mere accident, and the smell and the order-book convinced me that I had not made a mistake. The former was that of my friend Barrie, and the latter contained names of such high degree in connection with India that I immediately removed my hat.