_Adapted to the Business of every day Life. By Mrs. Dalgairns._


We like the title of this book--there is promise in it, for practice is
better than profession in any thing but the law of arrest. We are gross
enough too, in our hearts, not to like the name of a professed cook--thank
our stars, now nearly forgotten. There is so much science implied in the
name, so much theory, than which alone in cookery, at least, nothing is
less inviting. We should conceive the intention of this book to bring
cookery home to the business of every man's mouth--his breakfast, luncheon,
dinner, and supper practice, and heartily do we wish that all mankind were
in a condition to avail themselves of these four quotidian opportunities of
testing Mrs. Dalgairns's book.

"A perfectly original book of Cookery," says Mrs. D. "would neither meet
with, nor deserve, much attention; because, what is wanted in this matter,
is not receipts for new dishes, but clear instructions how to make those
already established in public favour." This reasoning is very just, for
none but the most thankless of _gourmands_, or the _gourmet_ who wished to
affect the sorrows of the great man of antiquity,--would sit down and weep
for new worlds of luxury. Good cookery is too rarely understood and
practised to justify any such wishes; and to prove this, let the sceptic go
through Mrs. Dalgairns's 1,434 receipts, and then "tire and begin again."
Our respected editress assures us that "every receipt has either been
actually tried by the author, or by persons whose accuracy in the various
_manipulations_[3] could be safely relied on."

[3] This is an unlucky word for a cookery book. Why not say
operations? Mrs. D. Mrs. D! you have not escaped the scientific