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For as much as a week beforehand, "we children" were employed in chopping mince for pies to a most wearisome fineness, and in pounding cinnamon, all-spice, and cloves in a great lignum-vitæ mortar; and the sound of this pounding and chopping reëchoed through all the rafters of the old house with a hearty and vigorous cheer most refreshing to our spirits.

I never spoke to the girls, but fellows who had been in the trenches told me that they came up under shell fire to give the boys pies or doughnuts or little cakes or cocoa or whatever they had made that day. I thought that great of the Salvation Army. And many a boy who got help through them has a warm spot in his heart for them. "You can see by the paper I write on who gave it to us.

The gladiators fled! Nor stood on the order of their going. In the middle of the ring, firmly anchored to the ropes, were two articles of crockery well known to our grand-mothers in the days when the plumbing was all outside. So ended the Glorious Fourth. I was busy baking pies one morning when White Mountain sauntered into the kitchen and stood watching me.

"All she cares about is something to eat," thought Faith, a little scornfully, setting the fine pumpkin shell on the table. Esther's face brightened as she listened to Mrs. Carew's description of pumpkin cakes, and of pumpkin pies sweetened with maple syrup. "I think I must teach you to cook, Esther. I am sure you would soon learn," said Mrs. Carew.

Under a tall rock, affording an unbroken view of the magnificent landscape outspread below, the tablecloth was laid and secured at the corners by large stones. Pies both savoury and sweet were abundant, bread sufficient, salt scanty, and water absent altogether. Bottles were plentiful bottles of ale, of porter, of wines heavy and light. Corks popped, champagne fizzed, ale sparkled.

She said that so Bunny and Sue would not be thinking about it. Two days and nights passed, and there was no sign of Tom. One afternoon Mrs. Brown baked some pies in the oven of the oil stove. She was all alone in camp, for Mr. Brown, the children, and Bunker Blue had gone fishing. Uncle Tad had gone for a walk in the woods. Mrs.

Dorcas's pots and kettles were all prepared to hang on the trammels when Grandma's were, and an army of cakes and pies marshaled to go in the oven when Grandma had proposed to do some baking. Grandma bore it patiently for a long time; but Ann was with difficulty restrained from freeing her small mind, and her black eyes snapped more dangerously at every new offense.

Holmes's husband arrived unexpectedly. Aunt Judith, with her family, came over at dinner time, so that there was a large and merry party. Two hearts, at least, joined in the deacon's thanksgiving before dinner with much fervor. At the table the dinner was much admired. "Huldah," said Janet Dunton, "I like your pies. I wish I could hire you to go to Boston. Our cook never does so well."

And when at last you find a charge big enough to lay hold of, the imperturbable man proceeds to explain how, in the case of that particular item, he was able, by the exercise of a little forethought, to save you 2 annas and 3 pies. I have struggled against these accounts and know them. It is vain to be indignant.

"It was the period of open fireplaces. Stoves were just being introduced. We could play blind man's buff in the old kitchen with great zest without running over stoves. "It was the period of brown bread, apple and milk, boiled dinners, pumpkin pies. We had very little cake. Pork and beans and Indian pudding were standard dishes, only the pudding was eaten first.