every step of the process, and found I had omitted the yeast in my composition! I went a little further in my artifice, for I was in a position to be as much ashamed of my ignorance of the domestic arts as a professed amateur would be if found at fault in the fine arts. Good Mrs. Stone vaunted her emptyings, as the country folk call yeast; she 'always,' she said, 'calculated to have lively emptyings.' 'So do I, ma'am,' said I, 'but I should like to know how you make yours.' 'Oh, I make them like other people, I guess, but some always have better luck than others!' I was determined to secure her luck, if possible, and so I said, 'I should like to know exactly how she made hers—perhaps her way was different from our city way.' I shall never forget her reply, for it was my first introduction to the indefiniteness of unwritten receipts. 'I hang on my kettle of water,' she said, 'throw in some hops and potatoes according to my judgement, and when they have boiled long enough, I strain the liquor into some rye flour, if I have it, and put lively emptyings to it!' Here, as you perceive, was neither time nor quantity; but, by means of a cross-examination which would not have disgraced a lawyer, I elicited the necessary information; and when on my next baking-day I presented my first fair, light loaf to my husband, I was a proud and happy woman!"
"Oh, I have always thought," said Mrs. Ardley, "if I lived in the country, I should like to attend to domestic concerns—there is nothing else there, you know, to occupy you."
Mrs. Hyde smiled. She thought of the rational and elegant pursuits that had occupied her in the
