out of the circumstance, that our forefathers, who could not read, had
neither almanack nor calendar to guide them, and who counted by moons and
festivals, instead of by months, and days of months.

_Brussels Sprouts._

It is, most likely, owing to negligence that we hardly ever see such a
thing as real Brussels sprouts in England; and it is said that it is
pretty nearly the same in France, the proper care being taken nowhere,
apparently, but in the neighbourhood of Brussels.

_Horse-Radish._

After horse-radish has borne seed once or twice, its root becomes hard,
brown on the outside, not juicy when it is scraped, and eats more like
little chips than like a garden vegetable; so that, at taverns and
eating-houses, there frequently seems to be a rivalship on the point of
toughness between the horse-radish and the beef-steak; and it would be
well if this inconvenient rivalship never discovered itself any where
else.

_Eating Mushrooms._

I once ate about three spoonsful at table at Mr. Timothy Brown's, at
Peckham, which had been cooked, I suppose, in the usual way; but I had not
long eaten them before my whole body, face, hands, and all, was covered
with red spots or pimples, and to such a degree, and coming on so fast,
that the doctor who attended the family was sent for. He thought nothing
of it, gave me a little draught of some sort, and the pimples went away;
but I attributed it then to the mushrooms. The next year, I had mushrooms