Author's Receipt.

On salad so much has been written, that one might suppose, as of many other culinary productions, that to make a good one was the result of some difficult and complicated process, instead of being simple and easy to a degree. The materials must be secured fresh, are not to be too numerous and diverse, must be well washed with very little handling, and all water removed as far as possible. It may be made by the hostess, or by some member of the family, sufficiently interested to regard the process as an exercise of fine art, immediately before the meal, and be kept cool until wanted. Not many servants can be trusted to execute the simple details involved in cross-cutting the lettuce, endive or what not, but two or threetimes in a roomy salad bowl; mixing one salt-spoonful of salt and half that quantity of pepper in a tablespoon, which is to be filled three times consecutively with the best fresh olive oil, stirring each briskly until the condiments have been thoroughly mixed, and at the same time distributed over the salad. This is next to be tossed thoroughly but lightly, until every portion glistens, scattering meantime a little finely chopped fresh tarragon and chervil, with a few atoms of chives over the whole, so that sparkling green particles spot, as with a pattern, every portion of the leafy surface. Lastly, but only immediately before serving, one small tablespoonful of mild French or, better still, Italian red wine - vinegar is to be sprinkled over all, followed by another tossing of the salad.* The uncooked tomato, itself the prince of salads, may be sliced and similarly treated for separate service, or added to the former, equally for taste and appearance. A tomato, however, should never be cut - it may have been previously trimmed a little - until the moment it is wanted for eating, as the juice and pulp of a ripe fruit drain away, and leave only its cellular framework, if it has been divided an hour beforehand. The skin should be removed in the manner described at p. 160. Cold boiled asparagus served with a mayonnaise forms a dish of its kind not to be surpassed. At present ranking, when the quality is fine, as an expensive luxury, there is no reason why, with the improved methods of cultivating this delicious and wholesome vegetable, it should not be produced in great abundance, and for less than half its present price.* As to the manifold green stuffs which, changing with the season, may be presented as salad, their name is legion; and their choice must be left to the eater's judgment, fancy, and digestion, all of which of course vary greatly.