"That I will," replied Felix.

But he never did.

For from that day he never saw the gander again; nor could he ever find the way to the pine-forest, though he fancied he had remembered it quite well; nor did he ever see the game of brush-cricket played again.

Sometimes he even doubted whether he had been to Pineland, and had seen the wonderful game.

"But yet," said he, "if I had not seen it, how should I know anything about the forest and the Pine Queen? and how should I know how brush-cricket is played?"

And how should he?

JULIA G.o.dDARD.

HARVEST DAYS.

Over the cornfield fell the sunlight, And turned all the stubble to gold, And 'neath the pale cloud-shades of evening Deep crimson and purple unrolled.

The gleaners were busily gleaning The yellow corn scattered around; The waggons, all heavily laden, Were tracing with furrows the ground.

The farmer stood lazily viewing The harvesting in of his wheat, His daughters were standing beside him, His faithful dog lay at his feet.

There came by a shy little gleaner, Flaxen-headed, with eyes bright and blue, And the farmer smiled down, "Little maiden, Come here--here's a gleaning for you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GLEANER. (_See p. 108._)]

He pulled from the waggon an armful Of corn; and the gleaner's eyes gleamed: She dimpled, she flushed, and she curtsied, Such a great golden treasure it seemed.

"Ay, sowing, and reaping, and harvest,"

The farmer soft spake as she pa.s.sed, And he thought of earth's sowing and reaping, And the harvest that must come at last.

LITTLE MARGARET'S KITCHEN, AND WHAT SHE DID IN IT.--VIII.

_By_ PHILLIS BROWNE, _Author of "A Year's Cookery," "What Girls can Do,"

&c._

When Margaret and Mary entered the kitchen on the day on which the children were to learn how to bake meat, they found Mrs. Herbert already there. As usual, everything was laid ready for them. The meat was on a dish, the tins and various utensils were clean and bright, and there was a clear bright fire, while a general feeling of warmth and comfort pervaded everything, which was very agreeable, as it was a cold day.

"You have cleared out the flues properly and cleaned the oven for us, I hope, cook," said Mrs. Herbert.

"Oh yes, ma'am; it is all as it should be," replied cook, with a satisfied look as she watched Mrs. Herbert open the oven door, glance quickly in all the corners, put her hand inside for a moment to test the heat, then draw it out, and shut the oven door once more.

"That is well," said Mrs. Herbert. "Now remember, children, when you are going to bake meat, the first thing you have to look after is the condition of the oven. If the soot has not been swept away from the back and round about, your oven will not heat satisfactorily, no matter how much coal you pile on the fire; and if the shelves are dirty, that is, if a little syrup from the last pie which was baked in it, or splashes of fat from the last joint, are left to burn on the shelves, the meat will taste unpleasantly, and very likely be indigestible also."

"But we cannot prevent syrup boiling over," said Margaret.

"Perhaps not; but you can sc.r.a.pe off what was spilt before it has time to burn on the shelves, and you can clean out thoroughly, and wash the shelves with weak vinegar and water, to make them fresh and sweet. We very often hear people say they do not like baked meat, because it tastes of the oven."

"Yes, I have often heard them say so," said Margaret.

"Ah! This remark would not be made so frequently as it is if cooks were careful to keep the oven _perfectly_ clean. Cleanliness is most important in all cookery, and never more so than with regard to an oven."

"What is that little iron slide which you pushed in when you opened the oven, mother?" said Margaret.

"It is a ventilator, and is intended to let fresh air into the oven, and to allow the smell of the roasting meat and the fumes which rise from it to escape. I shut it because we are just going to put in the meat, and I wish it to remain shut for about ten minutes, so as to make the oven very hot till the outside is cooked."

"I know what that is for," said Mary, hurriedly: "to harden the outside, and make a case to keep in the juice."

"Quite right, Mary," said Mrs. Herbert, smiling. "In ten minutes, however, we will push the slide out again, and that will admit the fresh air, slightly cool the oven, and allow the fumes to escape. Always recollect, however, that the oven must be hot. We need a good hot oven for roasting meat."

"Cook has put two dripping-tins here," said Margaret. "We do not want two tins."

"Yes, we do. To use two tins is another way of preventing the taste of the oven which is so objectionable. Usually I should use what is called a hot-water tin for baking meat. That is a tin made for the purpose, with a place inside for holding hot water. I shall not do so to-day, however, because I want to show you how to manage when there is no hot-water tin. See, I lay two or three thick sticks in the larger of the two tins, and put the smaller tin inside the other. Then I fill the bottom tin with hot water. I put this small stand in the uppermost tin, and place the meat on this, and then I put the whole affair into the oven."

"But what is the good of it all?" said Margaret.

"This is the good: when the meat has been a little while in the oven, the fat will melt, and will fall into the dripping-tin."

"I know that," said Margaret.

"Well, then, if we were to let the meat lie in the tin, don't you think it would get soaked in fat? Of course it would, and that wouldn't be agreeable."

"And the hot water: what is that for?"

"If we were to leave a tin containing melted dripping in a hot oven it would get brown, burnt, smoky, and disagreeable?"

"But what has the water to do with the fat burning?" persisted Margaret.

"I will try to explain, if you on your part will try to understand something which is difficult to understand. First of all, what is boiling water?"

"It is water which is so hot that it bubbles all over, and steam rises from it."

"Quite so. If we were using a thermometer, and were to put it into water which was bubbling all over, we should find that the silvery line, or mercury, in the thermometer rose until it came to 212. We might put a hotter fire under the water, but under ordinary circ.u.mstances we should never get the mercury higher than 212. Under extraordinary circ.u.mstances, I confess we could get it higher. For instance, if we were at the bottom of a mine, boiling-point would be two degrees higher, and if we were to put some salt in the water, boiling-point would be four degrees higher."

The little girls listened very attentively while Mrs. Herbert was speaking. When she paused, they looked very solemn, and said nothing.

"Fat, on the other hand, can be made very much hotter: more than three times as hot as boiling water. When heat is first applied to fat, it bubbles, but as it gets hotter it becomes still. As it gets hotter and hotter, it remains still, but it turns dark, and smokes, and smells burnt. This is what would happen to our fat in the tin if we were to let it come in contact with the heat of the oven shelf; but you can see that when water, which never rises beyond 212, is under it, it cannot burn in this way."

"I see that perfectly," said Margaret, joyfully. "I like to be told difficult things when once I understand them. But, mother, will not the water boil away?"

"Yes; we must watch it, and as it does so, we must add fresh boiling water. It would never do to add cold water, because that would make the fat too cool, and would lessen the heat of the oven also."