of the dinner-table were handsome, there
were no extra spoons, but, in serving, each
guest was compelled to make use of his own.
"If you serve yourself to a dish that is near
you, take whatever you want, at once, for it
is not civil to be twice in a dish. Wipe your
spoon every time you put it into the dish,
otherwise you may offend squeamish
stomachs! " Guests are to guard against eating
as though they had kept fast for three days
in order to do justice to their good cheer; but,
at the same time, to eat too sparingly looks as
though you disliked the meat, or the cooking;
and such folk are always laughed at, like the
lady who, to show her high-breeding, instead
of eating her peas with a spoon, cut them,
and took up half a one at a time on the point
of her fork; or that old lady who, determining
to be " prodigious genteel," and at the same
time feeling no inclination for a fast, made a
hearty meal on " corned beef and cabbage,"
before she went to a grand entertainment, all
unconscious that a piece of the cabbage had
lodged in the folds of her ruff. And then,
how, when dainty after dainty was pressed
upon her, and she, to the great vexation of her
entertainer, took only infinitesimal morsels,
protesting that she had already eaten the
whole leg of a lark, a gentleman who sat
next her, out of patience with her folly, pulled
the piece of cabbage from her ruff, remarking,
'' Yes, here is one of its feathers." With
some general rules, among which is this
direction —"If you sit next to a person of
honour it will behove you not to receive
your drink on that side"—Hannah Woolley
concludes this important chapter.

We are sorry that she did not here enter
upon the minutiae of after-dinner forms.
From a later publication we find that first
before the cloth was removed —" drawn " is
the word,— a silver salver or basin was
carried round, filled with perfumed water,
into which the guests dipped their
napkins and wiped their fingers. We also
find that, at this period, the dessert was only
occasionally provided, and these but for
very grand dinners, when it was called "a
banquet."  In her second book, published
about ten years later, and entitled The
Queen-like Closet, she gives very curious
directions how to set out a banquet. From
these we find that it chiefly consisted of
preserved fruits, except, during summer, when
strawberries and cream, or cherries, and rather
later, apricots and peaches, make their
appearance. Large trays, mostly square, roughly
made of wood, were to be provided, and into
these the dishes were to fit, rising higher
towards the middle, the spaces between them
being filled with flowers. The outer row of
dishes held fresh fruit, or the smaller kinds of
preserves; the inner row, such delicacies as
a whole red quince, apricots in jelly, or
oranges after the Portugal fashion; while the
middle dish, which was raised above the rest
and should, by rights, be a fair china dish,
was to present a miscellany of sweets; among
which almond-rocks, and variously coloured
candied fruits and comfits, were sure to be
found. The banquet being thus set out, the
tray was carried in by one or two stout foot-
men, and placed upon the table as soon as the
cloth was removed. " The banquet," our
authoress instances us, " may also be placed
before guests who come for an afternoon's
visit," especially if it be a fasting-day and
somewhat is needed to stay their stomachs
before supper; and doubtless on such occasions,
tea and coffee having scarcely made their
appearance then, save at the coffee-houses,
full justice was done to these sugared
delicacies.

We have next a rather dull chapter on
ensamples for imitation by the ladies, in
which Cornelia and Queen Esther, Octavia,
Judith and Penelope, with some half-a-dozen
modern paragons — are held up to
admiration. This chapter— which perhaps was not
written by the ingenious Mrs. Hannah
Woolley, but, as was often the case, by some
literary hack— is followed by more pleasant
ones, giving minute information how to make
almond puddings, and almond creams, and
quince jellies, and quince marmalade, and a
tart of green peas, — a work of supererogation
this, we think— and a grand sallet, which was
to be composed of almonds, raisins, olives,
cucumbers, samphire, sliced lemon, and half a
dozen more heterogeneous articles, each
placed in order round the dish, and a wax
tree pasted to the dish in the middle. Then
there are rules for the dairy; a very sensible
chapter on the care of sick people, and a most
valuable one, as her fair readers doubtless
thought, on distilling.

The chapter on the duties of servants
is curious for the incidental glimpses we
obtain of housekeeping two hundred years
ago. The waiting gentlewoman stands
highest, and she appears to have occupied
a station very similar to that of a lady's
companion. She must write well, and
in good English too, for she may have to
conduct her lady's correspondence. If she
can read well aloud, so much the better,
and also carve well. She should be able
to preserve well, and do various kinds of
fine needlework; and she should also know
how to dress the lady. This last requisite
seems to us very menial compared with
her other occupations; but such it does not
seem to have been considered at a time when
ladies in waiting at court actually were
waiting women to the queen, and stood
holding the robe or the mantle while another
laced the bodice, after performing the literal
duties of the lady's maid. The housekeeper
is next in rank, and very multifarious are her
duties. In addition to the general
superintendence of the household, she must
preserve well, have a competent knowledge of
distillery, also of making cates and spoon-
meats moreover, she should also make