Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/344

 October 22,  1850.]  THE  COOK  OR  THE  DOCTOR? 333

costs 1#. 3d, and  affords  a good  meal  to  six  hard- working persons, leaving  some  over: viz. , two pounds of  beef  (the  sticking-piece),  one  quart  of groats,  a pint  of  peas,  and  seasoning. Surely these dinners are  better  than  bread,  even  if  there  is butter  or  cheese  with  it.

Cheese is,  however,  excellent  food. It is  all nourishment, and  no  waste. Butter is  good  too: but they  are  not  meat,  and  can  never  supply  the place of  it. Yet, amidst  all  our  improvements,  it. does not  appear  that  the  consumption  of  meat bears an  increasing  proportion  to  the  population. The strangest  thing  is  that  we  do  not  make  more use of  fish  than  we  do. In the  Catholic  days  of  this country, everybody  ate  fish; and  there  seems  to  have been enoughf  or  everybody. But within  this  century, when our  fisheries  were  languid,  and  fishing  was a precarious vocation,  many  tons  of  fine  fish  have been habitually  buried  in  the  sands  whenever “the take”  was  larger  than  common. There was no demand  for  more  than  a small  quantity. The railways have  since  opened  up  the  markets  of  the interior, so  that  in  the  very  heart  of  the  island fine fresh  herrings  may  be  had  in  the  season  at  a shilling  a score: yet  the  demand  falls  very  far short of  what  might  be  expected  of  a people whose labouring  classes  rarely  taste  meat. It seems probable  that  the  obstacle  is  the  inability of the  women  to  cook. Fish is  a luxury  when intelligently cooked; but  it  is  easy  to  spoil  it  in the  dressing. Fish which  is  overdone  has  lost  its nutritive quality: but  when  one  does  meet  with  a woman  who  understands  when  to  buy  mackerel, herrings, whitings,  and  skate,  and  how  to  treat them when  bought,  one  sees  that  varied  and  excel- lent meals may  be  had  at  no  greater  cost  than mere dry  bread.

This brings  us  again  to  the  point  of  how different households  live.

Leaving the  rural  districts  for  a moment,  let  us look  into  a street  of  one  of  the  towns  where  fine fresh herrings  may  be  had  in  season  at  a shilling a score. In one  small  house  in  a court,  where  the family work  together  at  a trade,  the  women  pay  five shillings and  sixpence  each  for  board  and  lodging and the  warmth  of  the  fire,  candles  being  extra. They get  their  pay  on  Saturday  night,  and  pay down their  week’s  money  on  Monday  morning, when the  mother  gets  two  pecks  of  flour,  which make eight  loaves,  or  what  is  equivalent  to  them; and tea  for  the  week; and  meat — liver  and  bacon, or cheap  pieces  to  make  stews  and  pies  of; and  a little  lard  and  sugar. The bread  is  made  at  home, and baked  at  the  baker’s  for  a halfpenny  a loaf. On Sundays  there  is  always  a piece  of  meat,  baked, with potatoes  in  the  dish,  and  a pudding. There is never  any  milk  seen  in  the  house,  nor  butter, rarely any  cheese,  and,  oddly  enough,  no  rice. The family keep  fowls,  as  they  live  in  a yard. In a street  it  does  not  answer,  as  the  chickens  get stolen or  run  over; but  in  a court  they  can  be kept  in  the  heart  of  a town. But not  an  egg, much less  a chicken,  do  the  family  ever  eat,  though an egg  beat  up  would  serve  them  as  a substitute for milk  in  their  tea. Eggs bring  a penny  or twopence  a-piece; and  they  are  too  valuable  to  be indulged  in  at  home. However strange  this  seems in regard  to  a commodity  so  easily  produced,  it  is the  reason  assigned  by  many  a family  for  abstain- ing from so  excellent  an  article  of  food.

While these  good  people,  who  pay  their  way, and are  a superior  family  in  their  station,  are having breakfast  and  tea  of  bread  without  butter and tea  without  milk,  and  a dinner  at  twopence or threepence  a-head,  a neighbour  proceeds  some- what differently, lie  husband  is  a workman  in a factory,  the  wife  keeps  one  of  the  thousand huckster’s-shops in  the  town,  and  their  mode  of living  is  like  that  of  thousands  of  their  class. They have  hot  rolls  and  ham  for  breakfast; salmon and  peas,  or  a spring  goose,  or  a Christmas turkey at  dinner; and  buttered  muffins  and  beef- steak at tea. Sometimes they  have  prime  beef- steak three times  in  one  day. They, with  their double resources,  may  keep  it  up  for  a time; but many of  the  shop-customers  cannot. If you  ask where all  those  piles  of  hot  rolls  and  muffins  that you see  can  possibly  go  to,  you  find  that  the largest baskets  come  out  empty  from  the  narrow crowded streets  where  the  workmen’s  families  live. They begin  the  week  with  stuffing  themselves  with greasy hot  bread,  at  a cost  whioh  would  supply dinners of  meat  and  vegetables; and  before  the week is  out  they  have  no  bread. Look into  the huckster’s shop,  and  you  will  see  a workman’s wife, or  the  man  himself,  buying  a pound  of  ham, out of  the  very  heart  of  the  joint,  for  a shilling, and tea  enough  for  a single  cup  for  himself  and his wife,  and  a pinch  of  sugar. Day after  day scores of  people  may  be  seen  buying  quarter  and half-quarter ounces  of  tea,  morning  and  afternoon, paying on  each  occasion  for  the  shopkeeper's  time, and for  paper  and  string. They pay  also  for  the  sins of debtors. The huckster  pays  himself  in  his  prices for bad  debts,  long  credit,  and  an  infinity  of  paper and string,  odd  minutes,  and  waste  in  weighing  and measuring; and these  heavy  fines,  as  we  may  call them, are  levied  upon  customers  who,  if  they  knew how to  buy  and  dress  their  food,  might  have  as good  a table  for  the  same  money  as  health  and enjoyment could  require. Instead of  this  con- stant comfort, they  make  waste  which  they  do  not enjoy, aware  that  a time  of  hunger  cannot  be  far off. They are  often  underfed,  never  thoroughly well fed,  and  always  in  danger  from  every  wander- ing sickness. The huckster  gets  into  difficulties in the  same  way,  and  almost  forgets  the  sight  of beef-steak  and  salmon.

As these  hucksters  sell  everything,  they  have customers for  an  article  which  is  also  sold  all along the  streets,  as  often  as  children  pass  to  and from school  and  work,  namely,  “goodies”  or “sweets,”  or,  what  sensible  people  call  “sweet trash.” The  amount  of  bad  toffy,  comfits,  and tarts consumed  by  the  children  of  the  working- classes, and  of  the  very  poor,  is  beyond  the  belief of all  who  have  not  attended  to  the  fact. It is enough  to  say  that  in  hundreds  of  families,  where meat is  seldom  or  never  seen  on  the  table,  the mothers are  in  the  constant  habit  of  giving  the children halfpence  for  “goodies ” to  an  amount which would  supply  each  child  with  half  a pound of good  mutton  per  week.

One method,  and  perhaps  the  best,  of  recon- ciling these vagaries,  and  establishing  a steady practice of  good  diet,  would  be  to  make  good