I

N wandering about the country a little, one comes across the most pitiful attempts at cooking. To be restricted, somewhat, in the use of fine flour is no excuse for poor bread. Certainly one should be able to make some form of bread, largely of substitutes if necessary, that the family will really enjoy. Boston brown bread is seen in various public places, on dining cars, even at hotels and on the tables in private homes, so heavy and unpalatable that even the pangs of hunger do not force one to partake of it. This same kind of bread we have seen turned out in such a manner that, set on a table, side by side, with a perfect loaf of fine white flour, no white bread would be eaten so long as a slice of the dark bread remained on the plate. Sour milk, or whey, is the first essential to a good loaf of this variety of bread. Two cups of meal (one, each, of corn and rye), with one cup of any flour, save potato, is probably as good a mixture as can readily be secured. Rye meal gives a sweetish tasting loaf. Individually, we have never tasted any but good, sweet rye meal, but there are cooks who find it bitter. Let them try buying meal of another grocer, for bitter rye meal is the exception, and not the rule.

When making yeast bread with substitutes try using a little more yeast than is commonly employed, and if part meal enters into the loaf, mix it a little less stiff than usual.

In New England there has been a great increase in the number of pigs kept; in country places they have roamed in

wide, inclosed pastures; kept well-fed and clean the flesh cannot fail to be sweet and wholesome. Most of the boys who joined "pig clubs" have brought their venture to a successful issue, and can show pigs of fair size and weight. With the usual November weather, the pig's supply of green food from the garden being exhausted, the boys of the "pig clubs" will quite generally consider the advisability of transforming pig into pork. If possible, it would be well for the boys to carry their venture still further along, exchanging care and feeding of pigs to care and cooking of pork; for it is true that, under normal conditions, that individual is happiest who knows how to do the largest number of things well.

To be wholesome, pork must be thoroughly cooked; on this account searing over the outside of a roast is largely dispensed with, lest the heat do not penetrate to the very center of the joint. Long, slow cooking of these carefully reared pigs will give dishes tender as chicken and juicier than most turkeys; they are well worth a place as the central figure on any Thanksgiving table.

The flavor of chicken may be extended to all sorts of cheaper foods, to enrich them and make them more desirable. The bones of a roast fowl, and the tiny "left-over" bits of flesh are full of possibilities for another meal. By all means look out for the chicken feet; throw them into boiling water, let stand a minute, then rinse in cold water and peel off the skin and nails; now they are in good condition to add to other material for stock.

dish.

Purées and cream soups are too substantial for the beginning of a dinner. They are quite well adapted to figure as the hearty, or main dish at luncheon or supper. A soup, with a meat foundation, can scarcely be called patriotic at this time. Why is not the present a most favorable time to experiment a little with appetizers in the form of sardines, anchovies or tunny or even canapés of smoked tongue, eggs or a combination of several tidbits?

If the quantity offered be very small, the appetizer might simply whet the appetite for what is to follow; if made a trifle larger, it might serve to take off the keen edge of the appetite, and render a smaller service of the chief and more expensive dish of the meal sufficient. These appetizers need not cost much in money, but time is quite an essential item in their preparation. Tunny fish is now canned in this country; it is put up in oil. The flesh is firm, similar to that of the cod; the flavor is delicate; as purchased it resembles cooked veal. It is most excellent as an appetizer. After being marinated in French dressing, it is drained and served, cut in slices with a few capers, or as shown in the illustration in Seasonable Recipes. It is also served hot in tiny, individual, soufflé cases. or papers. Cheese is usually added (grated) to the body of the soufflé, or

Now is the time to dry all superfluous celery leaves for use in those months when fresh celery is unobtainable.

To be true to tradition, pumpkin pie must form a part of the Thanksgiving dinner. It takes a long time to cook pumpkin properly. Squash, especially if it be of good quality (dry and mealy), will cook in half an hour, or even less, but pumpkin, being of a watery nature, calls for long, slow cooking. When done, all the water should have been absorbed; to discard this is to lose the valuable part and leave the fibres, only, for eating. Whole wheat flour, with barley or rye flour, half and half, will make good pastry, and one as easily handled as that made entirely of fine, white flour.

When cooking pumpkin for the Thanksgiving pie, it is a saving of time and fuel to cook the whole pumpkin. This may be done in a fireless cooker, or, if a fire is necessary the whole day, on an asbestos mat on the back of the range. Store such portion as will not be required for a week in cans; adjust the rubber rings, partially seal and let cook in canner, steam cooker or other boiler, as in "cold-pack" canning, nearly an hour, then finish sealing. If a can of pumpkin be left over till next June or July, when products from the home garden are limited to lettuce, radishes, peas, asparagus and strawberries, a pumpkin pie will prove an unexpected and welcome addition to the family table.

hens, but that seemed wasteful to me, and now here they are, and we shall soon be without wheat at all, and I have not been willing to use part substitutes! Dear me, you just must help me out," and she burst into tears.

"I imagine there are many people like you, but you should have been patriotic enough to foresee the outcome and meet the situation, but that is not the question; I cannot stay longer than a week, and we must make haste while I am here."

"What a shortsighted, unpatriotic, educated fool I have been," Janet expostulated. "I'm so ashamed, and we thought we were so patriotic, buying Liberty Bonds and Thrift Stamps and giving to the Red Cross and knitting; and now I can see that this was not enough, for the wheat we have eaten can never be reclaimed, and we have been helping Kaiser William all the time; for our influence has not been in the direction of Hooverizing!"

"Hindsight is usually better than foresight, or the government would have heeded injunctions to prepare for war years ago, but if you can speed up in using substitutes as well as the government has done, you may ease your conscience somewhat," comforted Miss Miss Knoles.

"I suppose there is no use crying over spilled milk or used wheat, but I am truly ashamed of myself, and now you must fast on wheat, when we might have had a little to use, if I had not been so greedy." "Well, to return to the point, as professor Gregg used to say in chemistry, what are you going to have for luncheon?" Miss Knoles questioned.

.

"Well, if I could have my own choice of dishes, those that Ned likes best, I would say, cream of asparagus soup, wheat muffins, omelet, olives, strawberries and angel food, but that means wheat, wheat, wheat, and will never do." "Why not?" and Miss Knoles deftly fingered the substitutes, "here is rice flour to thicken the soup with; barley flour for muffins and potato flour for angel

food; let us get to work. Where are the eggs?"

"But suppose Ned does not like the dishes, and not a bit of wheat in anything?" Janet hesitatingly questioned.

"He's a soldier and might as well succumb to substitutes one time as another; don't mention substitutes to him, and see if he makes any comments on the Hoover luncheon."

Janet caught the enthusiasm of her instructor and hurried to the ice box for the eggs.

"Here's some cooked rice Ned spurned yesterday; it's too starchy, he said."

"Good, bring it here; if that is his complaint always cook it in plenty of water, and drain off the water and the rice will be nice and flaky."

"But that seems a waste of starch water," Janet offered.

"Why not use the rice water for hasty pudding; cook it all day in the fireless, and see if the result is not satisfactory; but this rice will do for the omelet, and make it possible to use less eggs."

"Won't it be too starchy?" Janet asked.

"The flaky rice would be better, and this could be nicely used in making bread;" she looked at the clock, "suppose we cook some fresh rice for the omelet, there is plenty of time."

"And I'll make the hasty pudding for luncheon tomorrow, but we'll have to have some substitutes, for Ned will never eat more than a tablespoonful of it; but is there time to cook and cool the rice?"

"The rice is better cooked in plenty of water for a long time, as you know, but in an emergency we can cook it rapidly and watch it carefully," Miss Knoles advised.

Fingers and tongues flew as teacher and pupil prepared the luncheon dishes. Janet learned many things about cooking that the war conditions had compelled Alma Mater to heed in their practical work of the class-room.

At just one o'clock Janet, Ned and their honored guest sat down to the care

fully planned repast, and Janet noted that each dish was greeted by her better half with a keen relish. She exchanged knowing glances with Miss Knoles, as they were about to arise from the table, and at the same moment Ned exclaimed, "Well, that was the best luncheon ever, and probably about the last wheat luncheon, girlie, as the papers say no more wheat; what now?" and he sighed rather unpatriotically.

"Did you really like our Camouflage luncheon, à la Hoover?" inquired Janet sweetly.

"What do you mean? I had enough to eat, and you never introduced any substitutes into these delectable dishes, I know!" and he shook his head with masculine decisiveness.

"Ask Miss Knoles, she is responsible for the 'camouflage,' but remember this is not the last of its kind, for I have learned lots this morning, and we are going to be patriots in real earnest now; three meals a day and between meals, amen!" and Janet spoke with an eager decisiveness that could not be surpassed by her husband, and which made Miss Knoles feel inwardly that there was no 'camouflage" in its earnestness.

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P. S.-Would you like to try the recipes? Here they are.

Cream of Asparagus Soup One-half cup cooked asparagus. One half cup of the asparagus water, and one and one-half cups of rich milk, heated and thickened with two level tablespoonfuls rice flour. Salt to taste, and add a small piece of butter when ready to serve.

Barley Muffins

(less can be used). One-half cup milk. One egg, one-fourth cup brown sugar muffin tins. This amount will make six Salt, one cup barley flour sifted; bake in

muffins.

Rice Omelet

Two eggs, beaten well, whites and yolks separately; pinch salt; one-half cup cooked rice. Beat yolks into whites with wire egg-beater, and then fold in the rice, and cook in omelet pan until set.

War Angel Food

Whites of six eggs, thoroughly beaten; three-fourths cup sugar, added gradually, pinch salt and four drops vanilla; onehalf cup potato flour, folded in last; bake in fireless cooker one hour.

I missed our next door children
When they were at the shore,

I missed their voices and their play,-
The yard was quite a bore.

One day I went into their house,
Upon an errand bound,-

O, every thing was strangely still,
You could not hear a sound.

I came home through the big, back hall,
And there, on pegs quite low,

I saw the children's old play coats
All hanging in a row.

Molly's old brown corduroy,
Betty's faded blue,

Jean's and Martha's chubby coats,
And Jack's gray ulster, too!

They looked so wondrously at home,
So friendly and so dear,

I patted each and ran away
My throat a-feeling queer.

Our next door children love the shore,
The water and the boats,

But I was glad when they came home,
To wear their old play coats.

Clara Seaman Chase.