Athenæus affirms, that cooks were the first kings of the earth; and that they obtained the sovereign power, by instituting set meals, and dressing meat to please every man's palate.

'Tis certain, the old patriarchs, who according to Sir Robert Filmer must be reckoned kings and princes, were their own cooks; and we are well assured, one of their number derived a blessing to himself and his posterity by making a savory hash, though he craftily imposed kid for venison.

The Greek commanders at the siege of Troy, who were likewise all royal sovereigns, never presumed to set before their guests any kind of food, but what was cooked by their own hands; and Achilles was famous for broiling beef-steaks.

In the infancy of the Roman republic, every citizen, from a dictator down to the meanest plebeian, dressed his own victuals; and one of their greatest generals received the Samnite ambassadors in the room where he was boiling turnips for his dinner. Although they came to offer him a large sum of gold, yet he did not think their message of so much consequence as to occasion his pot to boil over.

These royal, patriarchal, or consular cooks never dressed above one dish at a time, and in a very plain manner (whether of animal or vegetable food). In process of time, when it became fashionable to multiply dishes, they required assistants; and at length devolved this part of the kingship on their ministers ;-some modern princes indeed have endeavoured to restore it to its pristine dignity: I do not mean Pope Julius, who made pudding pies, nor the King in Rabelais, who cried green-sauce, because they were cooks by compulsion: but I mean the greatest prince of the age in which he lived, the Regent of France; who had a petite cuisine, to which he frequently retired to recreate himself, in dressing a supper for his mistress and his friend."

Who need be ashamed to be a cook after these magnificent examples? Advice of all kinds follow: how to keep your accounts and your beer from running over; your creditors and your bread from growing crusty; your wine, or your entertainer, becoming sour. On the last of the to pics, viz. fretting your host, a thing fatal to the character of a dinerout-take the following remarks:

"If you really wish to show your love and respect for your old friends,—invite them to come exactly at the same hour that they dine when at home.

The late hospitable Colonel Bosville had his dinner on the table exactly two minutes before 5 o'clock-and no guest was admitted after that hour; for he was such a determined supporter of punctuality, that when his clock struck five his porter locked the street-door, and laid the key at the head of the dinner table-the time kept by the clock in the kitchen, the parlour, the drawingroom, and the watch of the master, were minutely the same-that the dinner was ready was not announced to the guests in the usual way--but when the clocks struck-this superlative time-keeper himself declared to his guests"Dinner waits."

His first covenant with his cook was, that the first time she was not punctual, would be the last she should be under his patronage.

As a certificate of your intention to be punctual-you may send your friends a similar billet to the following-which I have copied from No. 39 and page 202 of "The Somerset House Gazette."

"MY DEAR SIR,

The honor of your company is requested to dine with 1824.

on Fryday,

The specimens will be placed upon the table at five o'clock precisely, "when the business of the day will immediately commence. I have the honor to be, my dear sir, Your most obedient servant, SECRETARY.

At the last General Meeting, it was unanimously Resolved, that 1st. "An Invitation to ETA BETA PI must be answered in writing, as "soon as possible after it is received-within twenty-four hours, at latest." reckoning from that on which it is dated; otherwise the Secretary will have the profound regret to feel that the invitation has been definitively declined.

2dly. The Secretary having represented that the perfection of several of the preparations is so exquisitely evanescent, that the delay of one minute after their arrival at the meridian of concoction, will render them no longer worthy

men of taste.

Therefore, to ensure the punctual attendance of those illustrious gastrophilists who on grand occasions are invited to join this high tribunal of taste for their own pleasure and the benefit of their country-it is irrevocably resolved, That the Janitor be ordered not to admit any visitor, of whatever eminence of appetite, after the hour which the Secretary shall have announced that the specimens are ready.'

After such notice, one would suppose that only those imperfect beings who have, somehow or other, been born sans brain, sans bowels, and sans every thing but mere legs and arms, will think of coming after the appointed hour -but those who are too stupid to understand the importance of the regular performance of the restorative process as it relates to themselves, are seldom very particular how they destroy the enjoyments of other-their want of the cream of politeness arises from their lack of the milk of human kindness.

What can arguments avail you if nature has not furnished your auditor with either sense or senses to understand them?-your only defence against such gentlefolk is to tell them plainly that you dine" à la BoSVILLE."

The crazy creatures whom your eloquence cannot persuade to be punctual for their own comfort sake, it is your duty to bar from destroying the comfort of your other guests :-Let not the Innocent suffer for the Guilty!

BOILEAU, the French satirist, has a shrewd observation on this subject. "I have always been punctual at the hour of dinner," says the bard, " for I knew, that all those whom I kept waiting at that provoking interval would employ those unpleasant moments to sum up all my faults.-BOILEAU is indeed a man of genius-a very honest man;-but that dilatory and procrastinating way he has got into would mar the virtues of an angel."

A man of genius! it is impossible. Great as our respect is for the French satirist, we give him up after that. He cannot have been a man of any talent whatsoever, if he had no regard to the spoiling of a dinner. We venture to say, that old Homer never was late in his life. If he were, he could never have composed such poems as the Iliad and Odyssey, which the unthinking are pleased to call fighting, but we could demonstrate to be eating and drinking, poems.

But it is not fair to gut a little book, as if it were a great fish. We shall therefore subjoin two poems of the economical school, and conclude our brief review.

THE 'TIS BUTs.

You ask me the secret by which we contrive

On an income so slender so fairly to thrive ?

Why the long and the short of the matter is this,

We take things as they come, and thus nought comes amiss,
My sons are no sluggards, my daughters no sluts,

And we still keep an eye to the main and 'Tis Buts.

Neighbour Squander's grand treat, 'tis but so much, he says,
And his wife's fine new gown, 'tis but so much she pays;
'Tis but so much the fan, 'tis but so much the play,
His child's gewgaws, too,-'tis but that thrown away;

But each 'tis but grows on, till they run on so fast,
That he finds 'tis but coming to want at the last.
M.M. New Series.-VOL. I. No. 1.

F

Now something occurs, and he says like a ninny,
I'll buy it at once, for it is but a guinea;

And then something else, and he still is more willing,
For it is but a trifle, it is but a shilling:-

Then it is but a penny, it is but a mite,

Till the 'tis buts at last sum up-ruin outright.

But for my part I ever these maxims would take,

That a little and little a mickle will make;

Take care of the shillings, those vain wand'ring elves,

And the pounds, my good friend, will take care of themselves.

If you quarter the road, you avoid the great ruts,

And you'll run on quite smooth, if you mind the 'tis buts.

Contentment's the object at which we should aim,

It is riches and power and honour and fame,

For our wants and our comforts in truth are but few,
And ne'er purchase that thing without which you can do
And this maxim of maxims, most others out-cuts,

If you'd thrive, keep an eye to the main-and 'Tis Burs.

We fear that it would be hard to inculcate these excellent maxims or the tribe of bards in general; far less make them practise the belly-' pinching advice of Mrs. Makeitdo-a name conceived in the spirit of John Bunyan.

How to make a Leg of Mutton, last a Week.
Of Eight Tooth Mutton, Tredway's* Boast,
Buy a Leg for your Sunday's Roast.
On Monday, You may eat it Cold,
As "the Cook's Oracle" has told:
With Salad and with Onion pickled
The dullest palate may be tickled.
On Tuesday, you may have a Lash
Without much care or eke much cash.
On Wednesday, tell your Cook to Broil it;
And be careful not to spoil it

By Burning, Smoking, and such haps
As often fall to Steaks and Chops.
On Thursday, dress it how you please,
Consult your taste-your time and ease.
Fryday of course you have it Fried,
And order Betty to provide
Mash'd Potatoes good and plenty,-
Such a meal will sure content ye.
On Saturday, the Meat being gone,
You dine upon the Marrow Bone.

Dine upon a marrow-bone! We must protest that we had much rather not, and advise our readers to be of the same opinion. Let them not, for example, be satisfied with this our marrow of the work of Kitchiner, but proceed at once to the whole joint itself; and from perusing it they will, we venture to say, rise up wiser and better men.

A butcher, who has resided many years at the corner of Titchfield and Great Mary-le-bone Streets.

M. CHATEAUNEUF'S REPORT ON VACCINATION.*

THE mortality of children is much less at present, in France and in its capital, than it was in the last century; particularly, from the birth to the age of five years. In the last half of the last century, and before the introduction of vaccination, the deaths of children up to five years of age were in the proportion of 50,579 in 100. Since the beginning of the present century, and the introduction of vaccination, the proportion of deaths in children of the same age (from the birth to five years old) has been reduced to 37,855 in 100. As vaccination preserves every year a certain number of children from the danger of dying of the small-pox, this diminution of the mortality of children in the first five years of infancy ought to be in part attributed to the action of this preservative, and the effect of which would be considerably greater were the practice to be more generally adopted. But it is far from being as general as it ought to be; for, in the four departments, from the returns of which we have made out new tables of mortality, the number of children vaccinated since 1811 has only been equal to one half the number born: throughout all France the proportion has not risen above three-fifths; and in the capital it has only amounted to a seventh. It is extremely difficult to form an idea of the number of children preserved by vaccination; and, indeed, it never can be exactly determined, from the total want of those tables which make known what was in France before the revolution the amount of mortality, age for age, as well as that caused by the small-pox: without such information, we can only calculate problematically the question which is the object of this memoir. To avoid the vagueness of theories, and the errors resulting from reasoning thereon, it is necessary to confine ourselves to one fact alone, which is now well established, namely, the continual increase of births on the one hand, and the diminution of deaths the amount of the latter, so far from keeping pace with the population, presents a falling off of 240,000 from what it would be, according to the increased population, had the mortality been so great as formerly. For instance, forty years ago in France, a greater number of deaths took place out of a population of 24,000,000, than there now does out of a population of 30,000,000. In the year 1784, there died in France 818,000 persons; and in the year 1824, the number of deaths was only 760,000, whereas it ought, all proportions kept, to have been a million. Although these advantages-the diminished mortality amongst children, and the increase of population-evidently result in a great measure from the beneficial effects of vaccination, yet it would not be reasoning justly to attribute them exclusively to it; for it must be recollected that, about the period of its introduction into France, a considerable change had begun to take place in the laws, manners, and institutions of the country, in consequence of which, instruction and civilization have made the most immense progress. It is therefore

M. Benouton de Chateauneuf, having been requested by the Institute of France to investigate the subject of the influence of vaccination on population, has just completed his researches, and presented a memoir to the academy. This request of the Institute evinces the importance they attach to the subject, and the high opinion they entertain of M. Chateauneuf, who is already known to the public by several essays and researches upon various statistical questions.

but just to take into the account the combination of these last circumstances, and to appreciate the influence which they must have had, conjointly with vaccination, upon the lives of children and the march of population. The consequence of the ameliorated condition of the industrious and labouring classes, has been not only an augmentation of the population, but it has also led to an increase of the average duration of life. The lists of mortality recently published all show, that the number of individuals who attain to the age of sixty is much greater now than it was formerly. The increase is in the proportion of 25 in 100, instead of 14 in 100, for Paris; and 24 in 100, instead of 144, for the rest of France. It may not be uninteresting to mention, though not immediately attached to the subject of this memoir, that in consequence of the prolongation of the average duration of life, as found by the recent lists of mortality, all tontine and life insurance societies, and in a word, all species of establishments speculating upon the duration of man's existence, founded within the last ten years, and which have based their calculations upon the tables of Messrs. Devillard and Deparieux, must necessarily, from the increase in the average duration of life that has taken place, find themselves under the impossibility of fulfilling their engagements. Indeed, such has been the case already with more than one of them. Amongst many interesting facts stated in this memoir, the following are remarkable. Before a reformation had been introduced into the Hôtel Dieu, one fifth of the patients died, a mortality nearly twice as great as that which took place in the other hospitals in the kingdom. The deaths in the Hôtel Dieu, amounted every year to 3,000, which is something more than an eighth of the whole number of deaths in Paris. At present, from the many improvements and ameliorations that have been effected, the mortality is not greater than one in seven. It was at the Hôtel Dieu alone that poor pregnant women went to lie-in: there, amidst a complication of human misery and infection, 1,400 of these unfortunate women were annually received. It often happened that one bed contained four of them in the hours of labour. The mortality, as it may be well supposed, was appalling, amounting in many instances to one-half the number. At present, at an admirably conducted institution, called L'Hospice de la Maternité, there are about 3,000 pregnant women annually received, of whom somewhat less than one in thirty perishes. From the reports of the council of public health, printed every year, it incontestibly appears, that the measures adopted by that administration to extinguish syphilitic disease, have been most successful. During the last twentyfive years it has diminished in the following progression. In 1800, one in nine of the women of the town was infected.

In those parts of Paris inhabited by the richer classes, one-sixth of the children die the first year; while, in the quarters occupied by the poor, one third of the children die before the end of the year. Before five years, more than one-half of the children of the poor perish; while the loss among those of the rich does not amount to one-third. In fine,