It requires, of course, a knowledge of the prevailing fashion, which may easily be arrived at by the simple process of taking in "Le Follet," or some good monthly publication on fashions. It requires also a correct eye and a good taste to select such materials as shall harmonize well with the style which is in favour. It requires, above all, a good workwoman, who knows how to cut out, how to put in the gores, how to arrange the breadths, where to put the fulness; where to make the dress full, and where tight, how to avoid creases, how to cut the sleeves, and how to put them in, how to give the arm sufficient room so that the back shall not pucker, how to cut the body so that short waisted ladies shall not seem to have too short a waist, nor long-waisted ladies too long a one. This important question of a good lady's-maid is one upon which depends the probability of being well dressed and economically dressed. It is absolutely necessary for a person of moderate means, to whom the needless out-lay of a shilling is of real importance, to make her things at home. If she cannot make them herself, she must find a clever needle-woman who has learned her business, and knows milliner's phraseology and the meaning of terms, and how to cut out to the best advantage. She will then be able to use common material, buy smaller quantities of them, and will always look well dressed. Her gown will always be ironed when it wants ironing; it will be mended whenever a stitch has broken loose; the collars and cuffs will always be clean and of the right shape and size; and no one will enquire into the quality and cost of the material of which the effect is so pleasing.
A lady's-maid that is quick and efficient is the best friend a lady can have who wishes to be well dressed and at a small expense. She saves her wages again and again. But not so with a lady's-maid who does not understand her business. If she is always requiring assistance, and cannot make the simplest gown without a needle-woman to help her, and will not attempt a smart dress at all, or who makes it so slow that either the occasion for which it is required slips by, or a much longer notice is necessary than the most fashionable dressmaker would demand in the very height of the London season, instead of being useful, she is an incumbrance. The dressmaker's bill is not avoided. A steady lady's-maid who is quick at her needle and quick with her eye, can always command good wages and a good place, and they who possess such a treasure will never be willing to part with her. Any one who has not thoroughly gone into the question would not believe what a saving it is to "make at home." It is not only that the milliner's bill is saved, but the materials which are used do not cost so much. Nor is this all, an efficient lady's-maid can clean and turn and re-make dresses so as to give them the look of new. To those who have but small incomes, it is of great importance not to be under the necessity of making frequent additions to their wardrobes, and anyone who can, by good management, enable them to wear a dress longer than they otherwise would, saves them, in the end, considerable outlay.
We have heard ladies say that nothing has provoked them more than the way in which their maids can make up for themselves dresses which they have laid aside. They can, by dint of sponging and washing, and pressing, and ironing by turning, and many other ways known to them, make their ladies' cast off clothes look as good as new, and many a lady has, before now, looked with envy upon an old dress which reappears in a new character, looking quite as fresh and attractive as ever, under the magic hand of a clever and practical needle-woman.
We maintain then, that, though the present style of dress may be expensive on account of the enormous quantity of material which is required, there is no real reason why it should be so costly as it is supposed to be. If ladies will give some attention to the make or cut and style of their dresses, the most simple materials will look exceedingly effective. It only requires judgment, good taste, and some forethought and contrivance.
We recommend as of primary importance, in order to be well and economically dressed, that people of slender means should have their dresses made at home, and should secure the services of a clever needle-woman who knows how to cut out and make, and has learned the mysteries of the art of dressmaking. With her assistance there is no reason why a home-made dress should not bear comparison with those of Madame Descon of London, or of Mr. Wirth of Paris. It is in the style, that first-class dressmakers excel. It is not in the actual needlework, which is often a very inferior affair. If, with the help of "Le Follet," ladies will give some attention to the subject of dress, and will assist their maids with suggestions and approval, they will find themselves amply repaid, not only by their own personal appearance, but also by the small outlay of money.
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There are an infinite variety of things which are necessary in order to make a woman thoroughly well dressed, which do not come under the category of dresses. Some of these must be discussed, as they are of great importance.
To begin with bonnets. How much of a lady's toilette depends upon her bonnet!—upon its make, its shape, its style, and the materials it is made of!
In these days, bonnets are much less ugly than they formerly were. They are not set at the back of the head as they used to be, when they made every woman look as if her neck had been broken. They offered no advantage. They did not screen the face from sun and wind, and no ladies could keep them on their heads without the help of long pins like skewers. The bonnet, as now worn, scarcely deserves the name of a bonnet. It is more like a cap than a bonnet; but, such as it is, it is exceedingly becoming to the young—more especially the style which has most recently come into fashion, in which, while it ties behind, below the chignon or large plait of hair, long ends of tulle, or lace, or blonde fall round the cheek, and fasten under the chin with a brooch or a flower. The effect of the lace against the face is very preferable to that of the fold of hard ribbon which was generally worn, and which was utterly devoid of all grace. Besides which, we have heard ladies praise the last fashion as being the most comfortable, because the absence of strings fastened under the chin enables them to eat, and sing, and talk without the necessity of taking off the bonnet, or of untying it. The extreme lightness of the modern bonnet is in itself a great recommendation. But if a bonnet is intended as a protection to the head from sun, wind, and rain, then, indeed, it must be allowed that the present fashion does not fulfil any of those intentions. A small saucer of tulle, or three-cornered bit of lace ornamented with a few flowers, which fits on the head in the small space that intervenes between the front hair and the beginning of the chignon, where it stops in order that the huge mass of hair now worn at the back of the head may be fully exhibited, does not do more than make a very pretty toilette. Useful and serviceable as a protection, it is not. But when it is contrasted with bonnets which were worn a few years ago, or with those which our mothers and grandmothers wore, we confess that we are glad of the change.
No lady ought to be indifferent about her bonnet. It is to her face what the setting is to a jewel. The arrangement of the lace or blonde; the way it accords with the countenance; the harmony of colour with the rest of the dress, which in some instances it tones down by its quietness, and in others brightens and freshens by its contrast; all these are points to be considered. It is impossible not to be guided by fashion in the selection of a bonnet, and the same fashion will prescribe how it is to be trimmed, but, as a rule, we protest against beads and tinsel of all kinds. If beads must be used, they should be used sparingly. We saw a bonnet this year which was nothing but black beads, which were designated by the high-sounding name of "black pearls." The bonnet was heavy, and very ugly; and when we remonstrated against it, we were assured it had just arrived from Paris—as if the announcement of such a fact was, in itself, enough to silence all objections. But it had no effect upon us, for the bonnet was objectionable on every ground—on account of its weight and appearance.
In London, as it is necessary to have a succession of bonnets, which soon become discoloured and spoilt by the soot and dirt of our great metropolis, all that really signifies is that they should look fresh and clean, and in harmony with the dresses with which they are worn; and therefore it is important they should be cheap. To give three guineas and even more, and perhaps five, for a bonnet which will last for only one month is an expensive proceeding; and when it is considered that really pretty bonnets can be bought for eighteen shillings, which look quite as well as those which are more costly, they are without excuse who do not manage to have always one nice-looking bonnet for special occasions.
We have known some ladies who are clever and wise enough to make their own bonnets, and then the cost of them is about five or six shillings each. If the lady's maid is clever and handy, and knows how to make them, she will probably make them quite as well as any professed milliners. All that is required is to understand what fits and suits the person for whom the bonnet is intended. Every one finds that one shape suits her better than another. The next point in making a bonnet is that the "artiste" should have a light hand, and should make it "off-hand," without letting it lie about to get soiled or tumbled. Things which are not expensive, but are made of common materials, should look fresh. If they have that merit, no one will examine them very closely to see whether the lace is real, or the flowers of the first quality. Satisfied with the general effect and style, no inquiries will be instituted into the cost of the materials. People are not so particular where their eye is pleased. On the contrary, where the effect is good, cheapness increases its value in the estimation of those who know that one and one make two.
No one can make bonnets, or indeed any kind of headgear, without one of those hideous figure-heads called "blocks," upon which the bonnet or the cap is made, without risk of injury. This is the only way in which the milliner can form any idea of the effect of her handiwork. She can turn it about to get the full, side, and back view of her performance, without touching the article in question, which, if it is mauled about ever so little, soon loses its freshness.
As we have long ago discarded the picturesque from bonnets, and the famous "chapeau de paille" has been laid aside, there is an advantage in the fact that the present style is unobtrusive; and strong-minded women who cling tenaciously to their beloved old coal-scuttle shape, and deride the present fashion, indignantly exclaiming against it, "Call that thing a bonnet, indeed?" certainly tempts us to reply to their prejudiced and absurd reflections, "Physician, heal thyself;" for if there is one thing more ugly than another, it is the old-fashioned bonnet with crown, curtain, and poke, to which a few old maids rigidly adhere—just as Quakeresses do to their hideous and antiquated style. There is a kind of self-righteousness in the protests of these ladies, with which we confess that we have no sympathy. We do not mean to recommend them to adopt the bonnet of a girl of eighteen, but we do advise them to conform to the fashion of the day, and wear a modified edition of the present and prevailing costume.
It is remarkable how straw always retains its hold as a material for bonnets. A straw bonnet, is, however, a more expensive article than one of tulle; but then it is more enduring, and better suited for country wear. There is also another advantage in straw: it never looks vulgar. A country lass in a bonnet of silk, or lace, or tulle, does not look one-half as well as one in a straw bonnet, neatly trimmed. Straw is becoming to persons of all ages and of every station. It makes a vulgar woman look less vulgar, and the lady more refined. Though common, it is never so in an offensive sense.
Caps have become an important item, from the fact that women of all ages wear something of the kind. The young girl who has passed from girlhood into matrimony, considers it necessary that some of those little caps made of lace and ribbons and which have such a coquettish look about them, should form part of her trousseau. She is as glad to exercise her new privilege of wearing a cap as an undergraduate is of wearing his cap and gown. It is a sign that she has passed to what she considers the higher state, although she knows that there are many high authorities for the contrary; but she remembers that "doctors differ," and she hails her privilege as one to which she has been always taught to look forward.
What can be more becoming than some of those jaunty caps which seem to mock at age? Here, again, we have a manifest improvement in the head-gear of ancient times.
Think of the turbans, the gigantic hats and caps of blonde which were made to stand erect by means of wire, and which surrounded the face like fans at full stretch, or (more gracious simile) like the nimbus round the head of a mediæval saint.
Contrast these with the little caps which ornament the head with lace, as only lace can ornament it, and you will see at once how superior the present fashion is. It is not only that these pretty and mysterious fabrics of lace and ribbon are an ornament to the loveliest and most youthful; but they have worked a revolution in the caps of elderly ladies. Instead of the cap with its frill of blonde intermixed with narrow ribbon or small flowers, fitting close to the face like a fringe and tying under the chin, we see small and becoming head dresses of lace, which sufficiently furnish the cheeks and cover the hair. Where it can be done, the cap of the most elderly woman should appear to dress and furnish her head rather than her face, though, if need be, it can be made to soften the asperities of age where they have marked the countenance.
Mantles or cloaks are a difficult question.
When everybody of every station wears a cloak or mantle we are disposed to recommend shawls, especially as a really good Indian shawl cannot be imitated, and denotes the quality and condition of the wearer. Every servant girl, every maid of all work, has her Sunday cloak. None but the rich can sport an Indian shawl. It requires falling shoulders and a tall and graceful figure. It should not be fastened round the throat as if the wearer suffered from a severe cold in her throat; but it should have the appearance of being loosely put on; neither fastened tightly on, nor falling off. Square shawls are always more ugly than not. If the wearer has not a very erect carriage, and if her shoulders are not well thrown back, the chances are that the effect of a square shawl will be anything but pleasing. If the lady stoops, or is at all round-shouldered, the shawl will have the effect of a window that has been cracked by a stone—it will look starred—it will not be smooth and even, but will present the appearance of lines radiating from the defective shoulders. For grace there is nothing like a scarf shawl, but only a few can, or know how to, wear it.
Under these circumstances a cloak or a mantle are safer. There is an infinite variety to choose from, but as the names and the fashion vary year by year it is useless to specify any. For the same reason, this constant change, it is best not to invest much capital in the purchase of one. Young people can wear smaller and shorter mantles than their elders, who require something larger and more imposing.
In winter there is nothing to compare to a seal skin; so much so that even an imitation is not to be despised. Velvets are ladylike, but they are expensive, and have not the durability of a seal skin. Velveteen cloaks are good and reasonable. Blue cloth or serge, braided with black, look well, and have been in favour for some time. We have seen a grey cloth cloak braided with black which has been much admired; also one of dark green cloth lined with grey, and, vice versâ, of grey lined with green. For winter, the effect of lining a cloth cloak with another colour in good contrast is decidedly good. But everything depends upon the shape and cut of the cloak. It is the shape that tells far more than the material.
In France we find gloves and shoes have a prominent place among the accessories of a lady's toilette. To be "bien chaussee et bien gantee" is essential to being well dressed. Good, well fitting gloves and shoes tell more than most other things among the French. At least a somewhat shabby and unpretending gown and bonnet, if accompanied by gloves that are of a good quality and colour and that fit well, and by shoes or boots that also fit well, and are of good style and make, will pass muster anywhere, while the reverse will fail.
It is remarkable that there is nothing which distinguishes a foreigner from an Englishwoman more than her gloves. They "fit like a glove;" they are of a good colour, according well with the rest of the costume, neither too light nor too dark, but rather light than dark. There are no ends or corners of the fingers which are not well filled; there are no creases indicative of the gloves being of a wrong size, nor are they put on crooked with a twist given to the fingers, so that the seams of the glove do not appear straight. In short, a Frenchwoman does not put on her glove anyhow as an Englishwoman does. To her it is a matter of great importance; to our country-woman it is a matter of indifference. We think the Frenchwoman right, because it is by what are called trifles that good and also great effects are produced.
We come now to an accessory of considerable importance—the hair. As a great amount of time is expended upon hair-dressing, and as no one ever thinks of wearing it in its natural state, and as nothing is more under the influence of fashion than the hair, it has become by consent of all an accessory of great importance. Will any one affirm that it is a matter of indifference how the hair is dressed? Whether in plaits or bows? Whether in a crop, or twisted up in a coil? There is nothing which affects a lady's personal appearance more than the style in which she dresses her hair. We confess that we have a strong prejudice against a too submissive following of the fashion. Because in the first place we deny that fashion is always in the right, and in the second it rarely happens that the same style exactly suits two persons alike.
Nothing requires more consideration than the hair. It is one of a woman's greatest ornaments. We have high authority for saying this. Hair should always have the appearance of being well cared for. It should set off the shape of the head if it is good, and not aggravate any of its defects. A small head, well set on, is a great beauty. It tends more than anything else to that distinguished look which enhances all other beauty. Beauty, if accompanied by a look of refinement, is worth more than mere animal beauty, and nothing is more indicative of refinement and noble birth as a well-shaped head. It is the head which gives the impression of intellectual power. The well formed brow should not be demoralized by ringlets, which are suggestive only of a wax doll, nor should it be disfigured by being surmounted by a kind of cushion or roll of hair which gives the idea of weight and size. Nor should the hair have the appearance of a bird's nest, and look tumbled and untidy. This was lately the "beau ideal" of a well dressed head. It was desired that it should appear unkempt and uncombed, as if it had been drawn through a quickset hedge. The back of the head, if well shaped, has a beautiful appearance, reminding one of a stag, which is so graceful in look and motion. But when it is disfigured by a large mass of hair, resembling a large pin-cushion, all that peculiar native grace which we so much admire is lost sight of. When all heads are made to look alike and equally large, there is no advantage in having a small and well shaped head. It seems as if the study of the present day were to make the head look large, and to conceal all its points. We miss the smooth braids of hair which set off the expanse of forehead, and the coils of plaits of hair, which ornamented, but did not conceal the back of the head. We miss the glossy look of the hair which indicated care, and prefer it infinitely to that which simulates neglect. It is perfectly true that one style does not suit all persons alike, any more than that the powder which was worn by our great-grandmothers was equally becoming to all. A low forehead, if the points of the brow are good, should have the hair drawn off it, whereas a high forehead which does not betoken any great intellectual power is disfigured by the same process. Smooth braids will not become a long face, nor puffs a broad one. A forehead which is already too high cannot bear to be heightened by coronets and cushions of hair, nor a countenance which indicates weakness to be made weaker still by limp luxurious curls. A stern face requires to be softened, while a weak one requires strength. The hair can generally do this. It depends upon how it is dressed.
They who are no longer young endeavour to impose upon the world by the use of wigs and fronts. These are an abomination, and in every instance they are easy of detection. There is something in the way in which false hair protests against the face and the face against it, which infallibly exposes it to be false. A lady with all the signs of years about her face makes her age the more apparent by the contrast of glossy dark hair which belongs to youth. Why is she afraid to wear her own grey hair? Grey hairs are no reproof, and we are quite sure they would harmonize better with the other marks of age than the wigs and fronts which prevail. There is something in the white hair of age which has a charm of its own. It is like the soft and mellow light of sunset. But unfortunately an old woman is not always inclined to accept the fact that she is old. She would rebel against it, but rebellion is useless. The fact remains the same. She is old notwithstanding her "rouge" pot and her front, and she is growing older day by day.
Jewellery is another accessory. Jewels, real jewels, are in the possession of only a few. They are so costly that only millionaires or the heirs of heirlooms can have them. They are very beautiful, and have this one merit, that a few jewels, judiciously selected and worn, make a person well dressed at once. A diamond necklace and brooch, diamond earrings, and a few diamond stars glittering in the hair, will make almost a shabby dress pass muster at Court. But jewellery is a term that is applied to ornaments generally, and not to jewels only.
Sham jewellery is an abomination. It is a lie, and a pretension. At no time was so much sham jewellery made and worn. Every damsel has her brooches and her earrings. In nine cases out of ten they are mere trumpery, but, such as they are, no maid of all work will go out for her Sunday walk without her brooch and earrings and chain. She must have her locket too, fastened round her throat with black velvet, but it is all, with the exception of the velvet, a sham.
Ladies too have a weakness for sham jewellery. They will wear massive bracelets, cameo brooches of target dimensions, earrings, chains, all of what they pleasantly call French manufacture. It is calledFrenchin the shops in order to soften down its imposture, and to play upon the weakness of our country women who are apt to think that whatever is French must be good. But in many cases they are of Birmingham manufacture.
We enter our protest very strongly against the use of sham jewellery, though we must own without much hope of success, for, it must be admitted, that a great quantity of it is exceedingly pretty. We are not surprised that it should be popular, for who can resist the opportunity of making herself fine and "beautiful for ever" at the cost of a few shillings, which is all that is necessary to lay in a fair stock of jewellery.
This sham jewellery is continually mistaken for real, so good is the resemblance.
If a duchess were to wear it everyone would take for granted that it was real, because she would not be supposed to wear anything that is unreal. We have heard of a lady who, possessing but very few jewels, always makes up for the deficiency by wearing sham diamonds. They are good of their kind, and no one ever suspects them to be false, simply because there is no reason why she should not have real diamonds, but, on the contrary, so far as the world knows, every reason why she should.
In the use of jewellery more than in anything else we maintain that all persons should dress according to their station and their means. If they can afford it—let them—but we recommend them not to act too much upon the old saying, that "fine feathers make fine birds," but to bear in mind that being well dressed means something more than well-fitting, well-selected clothes.
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It is very difficult, we might say impossible, to give any definite rules about dress. Fashions change so continually, that if we were to write a dissertation upon peplums, and trains, and gores, or give directions how to cut them out or make them, almost by the time this manual should come into circulation, they would have become portions of the past, and our hints would seem absurd and out of place. All that has seemed feasible to us we have done, which has been to give certain hints that the rocks upon which so many split, who make great endeavours to be well dressed, might be avoided by our readers.
There is no doubt that every one wishes to dress well, whatever her means may be; and that no one thinks she dresses ill, whatever the world may think of her performance. We look at ourselves through coloured glass, and are apt to take the most favourable view of our own peculiarities—
"O, wad some power the giftie gie us,To see ourselves as others see us."
There are rules in dress, as there are in painting, which, if observed, will prevent our making "frights" of ourselves. Anyone who starts for herself on a new line, and, throwing to the wind the received laws, adopts and carries out some crude theory of her own, however much she may entertain herself by her experiments, runs a great chance of making a figure of herself, and will infallibly obtain a reputation for conceit and affectation. No woman, unless she is a star of great magnitude, or a belle of note, can with impunity set at nought the received customs. She is by no means bound to follow fashion so implicitly and subserviently as to mar her own beauty. But a clever woman will always be able to avoid affronting fashion while she takes a line of her own. We use this phrase with a certain limitation, because if a woman were to take a line of her own unrestricted by certain "convenances" of society and of fashion, she would certainly fall into the very error which we should be the first to declaim against, namely—the error of eccentricity. A due regard for these "convenances" will ensure that sense of propriety in dress which will make everyone remember both her station and her means. The fine lady will not effect the simplicity of the village girl, nor the village girl aspire to be mistaken for the fine lady. Both will maintain their own positions, and will be respected while they maintain them.
Let it also be borne in mind that a bonnet or cap, mantle or gown, may be very pretty in itself and very becoming to some persons, but not necessarily to everyone; generally to only a few. The young and the old have each their privileges. The one must not dress like the other. Though we have seen some who have been foolish enough to forget the years that have passed, and cannot realise the fact that they are no longer young, and vie with the youngest in the youthfulness of their attire, we do not, we admit, often find the young endeavouring to make themselves look older than they are. One who has thought much and written well on this subject says, "Doubtless if there were any way of making old people young, either in looks or anything else, it would be a delightful invention; but meanwhile juvenile dressing is the last road we should recommend them to take."
In conclusion, let every woman bear in mind that dress denotes character, that there is a symbolism in dress which they who have studied the matter can read without difficulty.
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So long as the taste for dinnersà la Russeshall continue, it does not seem absolutely necessary for lady or gentleman to take the trouble to learn to carve. But the idle and wasteful fashion of employing servants to cut up your food after their own fancy, and of sitting round a board bereft of all appearance of dinner except the salt-cellars and glasses, to watch flowers and fresh fruit decay and droop in the midst of the various smells of the hot meats, while waiting to receive such portions as your attendant chooses to bestow on you, is so opposed to the social, hospitable, and active habits of an English gentleman that it must soon pass away, and the tempting spread on the generous board, pleasant to the eye as well as to the taste, resume its place.
Dexterity, grace, and tact in carving and distributing the delicate morsels of the dish, have been many a man's passport into popularity. Nor is this accomplishment unworthy of cultivation in the elegant woman; affording a pretext, too, for that assistance of some favoured neighbour which men love to offer to the fair.
The number of guests to be invited to constitute an agreeable dinner is no longer restricted to the old rule of never less than the number of the Graces, nor more than that of the Muses. Large tables, well-trained servants, dinnersà la Russe, and a greater facility in furnishing the viands for the table than formerly existed, have enabled families to extend the number received, and dinners of from twelve to twenty are common, and more convenient than several small dinners.
The invitations should be sent out, if possible, a fortnight previous to the dinner, to avoid disappointment; and etiquette commands the reply to be immediate, to allow the host to fill up his table in case of refusals. The size of the table must always be a first consideration, for all enjoyment of the good things spread before them will be marred if people be crowded; and on the contrary, the table must not be too large for the party: nothing can be more gloomy than a scattered company or an empty chair. From 2-1/2 to 3 feet is a fair calculation for each person, especially since the dimensions of crinolines is lessened; but no more should be allowed.
There is another grand point to remember in issuing invitations—the important social arrangement of the guests. No man of good sense would invite the CAPULETS to meet the MONTAGUES,—a blunder which inevitably checks many topics of conversation, throwing a damp on all attempts to promote universal enjoyment.
Be careful at any rate to assemble, as far as your convenience and judgment permit, the elements of harmony, and you have fulfilled your duty. It is desirable not to have many great talkers, but if you invariably must have some, then match them with good listeners.
In laying the cloth, care should be taken, not only that the table should occupy the centre of the room, but that the cloth should be spread to leave the pattern in the centre of the table, with the design proceeding from the head, and as the cloth is now almost universally left on the table for the dessert, lay-overs or slips are placed round, broad enough to reach two or three inches beyond the plate, to be carefully removed in folds when the crumb-brush has been used after the dinner is removed.
The table being spread, and the dinner announced by the butler or principal waiting servant, the lady of the house must quietly indicate the arrangement of her guests according to rank, age, or any local or occasional distinction, the master of the house leading out the first lady, and the mistress following last with the most distinguished gentleman, who, seated at her right hand, is her assistant in the duties of the table.
The soup and fish are usually placed on the table together, and the covers removed at once; the soup to the lady, the fish before the master; or if two soups, and one should be turtle, that must be at the head. Soup is sent round without inquiry to everybody, to be accepted or rejected at pleasure. Sauterne, sherry, or Madeira may be offered after the soup. After turtle soup, punch is the correct liquor. The fish is carved and served round in the same way as the soup, if only one kind of fish be served; if more, the choice must be left to the guest.
After the soup and fish are served, the Removes, as they are generally termed, that is, thepieces de résistance, the stronghold of the dinner, are brought in; but before they are carved, two or moreentréesare usually handed round, and if champagne be introduced, this is the time for it to be offered.
In carving the removes, a servant must be at the side of the carver with the plate, which he must as quickly as possible pass to the guest for whom it is required, another servant following with the vegetables or sauces. If only one servant be employed, the vegetables should be on the table, that the guests may help themselves, for nothing can be more vexatious than to have to wait for them for a quarter of an hour after you have been served with the meat. The same may be said of the sauces, so often, at a scantily-attended table, withheld until you no longer care for them. Such wines as the master of the house chooses to bestow must be offered when needed. Watercaraffeswill be within the reach of all, and beer, if called for, must be served.
In the matter of carving, it should be held in mind that the flavour and the digestibility of the meat depends greatly on the careful mode of cutting it. A delicate stomach may be disgusted with a thick coarse slice, an undue proportion of fat, a piece of skin or gristle; and therefore the carver must have judgment as well as dexterity, must inquire the taste of each guest, and minister discreetly to it. This delicate duty is more fully set forth in the direction for carving each dish. One point it is well to remember: never use a knife when you can help with a spoon. The lighting the dinner-table well is of some importance. People like to see their dinner, but lamps and candles on the table are liable to accidents. Gas is also objectionable; the heat from it is oppressive, and the light too glaring to be pleasant to the eyes, or becoming to female beauty: chandeliers with wax lights or a suspended and shaded lamp we would recommend as most favourable to the banquet and the company. Few dishes are now placed on the table at dessert. There should be at least three glasses placed before each guest, one of which must be of coloured glass, and water-tumblers here and there at hand. To each, also, a dessert-plate, a knife, fork, nut-crackers, and d'Oyley; the decanters of such wines as the host chooses to bring forth, on their proper stands; and salt-cellars, and sugar-vases with perforated ladles, must also be on the table.
When the lady of the house perceives that her female guests have taken the wine they wish, she signifies by a slight inclination the request to leave the table, and on her rising some chivalrous gentleman opens the door for the ladies to pass into the drawing-room, where it is the duty of the mistress of the house to offer the usual amusements to her friends—music, books of drawings, or conversation; but few efforts are required among well-bred guests.
Coffee should then be brought in. If only one servant be employed, every lady must prepare her own cup. When there are two servants, the cups are on one tray, and the second attendant follows with the coffee-pot, and fills the cup of each person.
If the gentlemen in the dining-room do not join the ladies immediately, coffee is served to them at table when required; and when they appear in the drawing-room, tea is handed round.
The greatest aid to the pleasure of a mixed party is that ease of manner which the habits of good society produce. When the hosts are composed and cheerful, the company commonly follow the example, and awkward restraint disappears.
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Though in the present day no lady would be permitted to perform the heavier duties of carving for a large company unassisted, yet it is by no means inconsistent with the character of a well-bred woman to understand, and occasionally to practise, the duty. In the middle classes this duty is not unusually taken by the wife of a man whom business may often detain from his home; and a skilful and economical carver is no bad helpmate for a hard-working professional man.
Men ought to know how to carve any joint or dish set before them, or, however high their standing in the world, they appear awkward and clownish; and, therefore, all men should practise the art of carving in their youth.
The first necessary provisions for carving are the proper utensils; the most skilful of artists would be defeated in his aim if he had not his tools. The carving-knives and forks are now made specially for the various dishes. The fish-carvers, of silver or silvered metal—the touch of steel destroys the flavour of the fish—should be broad, so that the flakes be not broken in raising. For the joints of meat, a long, very sharp steel blade; and for poultry and game, a long-handled but short and pointed blade, to be inserted dexterously between the small joints of the birds. The forks must be two-pronged, and the dish must be sufficiently near to the carver to give an easy command over it.
Having the needful utensils for work, all now depends on the coolness, confidence, and dexterity of the carver, with that small knowledge of anatomy that enables him to know what joints there must be in thepiecebefore him, and where they are situated. In butcher's meat, one rule is almost universal: the slice cut must be cut across the fibres of the meat, and not along them; a process which renders it more easy to masticate and digest. The exceptions to this rule are the fillet or under-cut in a sirloin of beef, and the slices along the bone in a saddle of mutton. In cutting a joint of meat, the strong fork is used to steady it; but in carving poultry it is the fork which is most useful in removing the wing and leg by a jerk, without leaving any ragged remains adhering to the body. All this must be accomplished by dexterity, not by strength, and any lady may acquire the art by a little observation and practice.
A knife should never be used for pies,entrées, or sweet dishes; a spoon wherever a spoon can be used.
In helping to choice dishes, stuffings, &c., the carver should always calculate the number of the company, and proportion the delicacies discreetly.
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There is more art in delicately carving the imperial turbot than any other fish, in order that every one may be supplied with the rich skin and fins, so highly appreciated by epicures. It is always brought to table with the white or under-side uppermost, as this is the most delicate part. The point of the fish-knife must be drawn done the middle to the bone, and from thence deep cuts made at right angles, and the squares, thus made, carefully raised, including the portion of fin attached to each. After the upper part is consumed, the back-bone may be removed, and the lower part divided in the same way, neatly, and without breaking the flakes. Brill, a fish much inferior in quality, but sometimes introduced as turbot, must be carved in the same way.
[Illustration]
Next to turbot, a cod's head and shoulders is the handsomest dish of fish brought to table. The fish-knife must be passed through the back from 1 to 2, and then transversely in slices. No fish requires more care in helping, for when properly boiled the flakes easily fall asunder, and require a neat hand to prevent the dish looking untidy. With each slice should be sent a portion of the sound, which is the dark lining underneath the back-bone, to be reached with a spoon. Part of the liver may be given if required. The gelatinous part about the eye, called the cheek, is also a delicacy, and must be distributed justly, according to the number of the party.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The best part of a large salmon is a thick piece from the middle. It must be carved by first making an incision down the back, 1 to 2, and a second from 5 to 6; then divide the side 3 to 4, and cut the slices, as preferred, from the upper or thick part, or from the lower richer thin part, or give a little of each. Salmon trout, as it is usually called, haddocks, or large whitings are carved in the same way.
It is usual to split the fish from head to tail, and, if not very large, to serve it in two pieces. Most of the smaller fishes may be carved in this way, if too large to serve whole. In every case, one grand rule in carving fish must be attended to—not to break the flakes, and to help compactly, not in detached fragments.
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It is very necessary that every one who undertakes to carve a haunch of venison should be aware of the responsibility of his duty. An ill-cut or inferior slice, an undue portion of fat, or a deficiency of gravy is an insult to an epicure. The joint must first have a deep incision across the knuckle, 1 to 2, to allow the gravy to flow; then long parallel thin slices along the line 3 to 4, with a portion of the fat, and, if required, of the rich kidney fat lying under the loin; the gravy also, which is, or ought to be, very strong, must be discreetly portioned out according to the number at table. The haunch of mutton must be carved in the same way.
[Illustration]
This very handsome joint is commonly and easily carved in long thin slices from each side of the bone, with a little additional fat cut from the left side. Or, with a little more care, the newer mode may be followed of carving oblique slices from the centre, beginning at the bone near the tail, and cutting the slices through the joint, thus mingling the fat and lean. A saddle of lamb, a pretty dish in season, must be carved in the same way.
[Illustration]
The best part of this joint is in the middle, between the knuckle and farther end, and the best way to carve it is to make a deep cut at 1, and continue to cut thin slices as far as 2, on each side of the first incision; but as more fat is usually required than lies with the slice, a small neat slice may be added from the broad end at 3. The cramp-bone may be extracted, if asked for, by cutting down at 4, and passing the knife under in a semicircle to 5. The delicate fine meat of the under side, which lies beneath the "Pope's eye," is sometimes demanded by epicures.
[Illustration]
Make an incision at 1 down to the bone, which will then afford a deep gap, from which on each side you may help thin slices, adding a little fat from the outer edge marked 2. If the demands are more than can be supplied at the first opening, additional slices may be obtained by cutting down to the blade-bone, marked 3, on each side. Some of the party may prefer slices from the under side, the meat of which is juicy, though less fine in grain; these must be cut horizontally.
A loin of mutton is always brought to table with the joints of the bones divided; it is therefore merely necessary to begin at the narrow end, and cut off one chop at a time, with a small portion of the kidney if required, or of the rich kidney fat.
The joints of a neck of mutton are always divided before cooking in the same way as those of the loin, and the carving is simple. It is only necessary to begin at the long bones, where the best meat lies, the scrag, as it is usually called, being coarse and gristly, and frequently taken off before the joint is dressed for the table.
Lamb is generally carved in the same way as mutton, but rather more sparingly, as there is less meat on the joint; but when sent to table in the quarter, as it commonly is when young, it must be cut up after its own fashion as follows.
[Illustration]
This consists of the shoulder, ribs, and brisket. The shoulder must first be raised from the rest by passing the knife under the knuckle in the direction of 1, 2, 3, leaving a good portion of meat adhering to the ribs. A slice of butter, seasoned with pepper and salt, is laid between them, and the juice of a lemon squeezed over the ribs. This must remain a minute, and the shoulder may then be removed to another dish, for the convenience of carving the rest. The ribs and brisket must then be divided in the line 3, 4, the ribs separated, and brisket cut into small divisions, giving each person the choice of a rib or piece of the brisket. The shoulder, if required, must be cut in the same way as a shoulder of mutton.
The principal joint of beef, the sirloin, must be carved outside or inside, according to the taste of the guests. The rich delicate meat under the bone, called the fillet, is carved in parallel slices across the joint and along the grain, contrary to the usual mode of cutting meat. The outer part is carved in long slices cut down to the bone in the direction 1, 2, beginning at the edge, the brown being the first slice. Many prefer to cut the slices across the joint, beginning in the middle; certainly easier for the carver, but destructive to the future appearance of the joint, nor is the meat so tender thus crossed. A portion of the under fat should be reserved for the upper slices.
[Illustration]
Must be carved like the upper part of the sirloin. There is no fillet in this joint. It is usual to begin the slices at the thin end.
With a sharp thin-bladed knife shave off in a horizontal manner the first slice, leaving the round flat and smooth. The meat is disfigured if this smoothness is not preserved; it is therefore necessary that your knife be sharp and your hand steady. It must be served in very thin slices.
[Illustration]
Is usually skewered and boiled with part of the rump, forming a sort of round, to be carved the same way as the round. The soft, marrow kind of fat is at the back of the bone, below 4, and must be supplied when required; the harder fat is at the edge of the meat, 3, and will accompany each slice.
In carving the rump, buttock, or other joints of beef, it is merely necessary to observe, that every slice should be as neatly as practicable cut across the grain. Even in the brisket, the slices must be across the bones, and not through.
[Illustration]
The tongue may be sent to table either rolled or in length. If rolled, slices are cut as in a round of beef; if not rolled, it must be cut nearly in the middle, not quite through, and slices taken from each side, with a little of the fat which lies at the root, if liked.
[Illustration]
The half-head is often sent to table; but when a whole head is served, it is only necessary to know the delicate parts and to distribute them impartially. Long slices of the gelatinous skin, cut down to the bone from 1 to 2, must be served. The throat sweetbread, as it is called, lies at the thick neck end; and slices, from 3 to 4, must be added to the gelatine. The eye is also a delicacy: this must be extracted with the point of the knife, and divided at discretion. The palate, situated under the head, must also be apportioned, and, if necessary, the jaw-bone should be removed, to obtain the lean meat below it.
Is usually divided into two portions—the chump end and the kidney end; the latter of which, the most delicate part, must be separated in bones which have been jointed before cooking. Part of the kidney, and of the rich fat which surrounds it, must be given to each. The chump end, after the tail is removed and divided, may be served in slices without bone, if preferred to the richer end.
[Illustration]
The fillet of veal, corresponding to the round of beef, must be carved in the same way, in horizontal slices, with a sharp knife to preserve the smooth surface. The first, or brown slice, is preferred by some persons, and it should be divided as required. For the forcemeat, which is covered with the flap, you must cut deep into it between 1 and 2, and help to each a thin slice, with a little of the fat.
The breast is composed of the ribs and brisket, and these must first be separated by cutting through the line 1, 2. The taste of the guests must then be consulted; if the ribs be preferred, the bones are easily divided; if the brisket, which is thick, and contains the gristle, which many like, it must be in small transverse squares. The sweetbread is commonly served with a roast breast of veal, and a small portion of it must be given with every plate.
[Illustration]
This part is always boiled or stewed, and the fat and tendons render it a dish much esteemed: some good slices may also be cut, and the marrowy fat which lies between two of the outer bones must be carefully portioned out.
Though the shoulder of veal may be carved in the same way as mutton, it is usual to turn it over, and cut moderately thick slices from the thick edge opposite to the bone, and parallel with it.
Theneck, of which the best end only is usually roasted, and stuffed under the skin, must be divided in the same way as a neck of mutton.
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[Illustration]
Commonly the joints of pork are carved in the same way as the similar joints of mutton, in slices across, cut very deep, as marked 1, 2. In the leg, however, the close, firm flesh about the knuckle is more highly esteemed than in the same part of a leg of mutton, and must be dealt out impartially.
Thehandis a delicate joint, and may be carved from the blade-bone as in mutton, or in thin, slices across, near the knuckle.
Is usually accompanied by apple sauce to correct the richness of the gravy. The fleshy part is first cut in long slices, and the spare bones are then easily divided.
[Illustration]
The usual method of carving the ham is by cutting down directly to the bone three or four thin slices in the direction 1, 2; then by passing the knife along the bone, you completely detach them, and give a due portion of fat to each. If you wish to be more economical, you must begin at the knuckle and gradually work onward, leaving a better appearance than when cut in the middle. A more extravagant method is by scooping a hole in the middle, and cutting circular slices round, on the principle of keeping the meat moist and retaining the gravy. This is obviously a wasteful plan.
Before it is sent to table, the head is removed and opened, and the body split in two, thus rendering it very easy to carve. First separate the shoulders, then the legs from the body. The triangular piece of the neck between the shoulders is reckoned the most delicate part, and the ribs the next best. The latter are easily divided according to the number of guests, being commonly little more than gristle; there are choice bits also in the shoulders and thighs; the ear also is reckoned a delicacy. The portion of stuffing and gravy must not be forgotten by the carver.
[Illustration]
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Be careful first to have your proper carving-knife; and next to consider the number of the company. If a small number, it will only be necessary in carving a goose, turkey, or cluck, to cut deep slices from each side of the breast, without winging the birds. In a large party they must absolutely be cut up.
In carving a goose, the neck must be turned towards you, and the skin below the breast, called the apron, be removed in a semicircular direction, to enable you to reach the stuffing inside. Some carvers choose to pour in a glass of port wine, or claret mixed with mustard, before beginning to cut up. The slices first cut are on each side of the breast-bone, markeda, b. Then, if required, the wing may be removed, by putting the fork into the small end of the pinion, and pressing it close to the body until you divide the shoulder-joint at 1, carrying the knife on as far as 2, and then separating by drawing the fork back. The leg must be removed in the same manner in the direction 2, 3, and the thigh, which is by many considered the best part, must be separated from the inferior drumstick. The merry-thought may be removed by raising it a little from the neck, and then passing the knife beneath, and the delicate neck-bones are taken off the same way. The rump is looked on by epicures as a dainty. After each plate has been supplied with the part asked for, a spoon must be introduced at the neck to draw out the proper portion of stuffing.
[Illustration]
A green goose is carved much in the same way, but is not stuffed, and only the breast regarded as very delicate.
The prime part of the turkey is the breast, and it is only after this is exhausted that the real cutting up of the bird is required. The knife must be passed down close to the bone and through the forcemeat which fills the breast, and then thin slices, with a due portion of the forcemeat, distributed; and except in a very large party, this usually is sufficient; but if more be required, the pinions and legs must be taken off like those of the goose. The thigh is good; the pinion and drumstick are usually tough, and reserved till the last; the side or neck-bones are delicate; also the small round piece of flesh on each side of the centre of the back calledthe oyster. Beyond these the turkey requires no more carving.
The fork must be firmly fixed in the centre of the breast, draw the knife along the line 1 to 3, and then proceed to take off the wing, by inserting the knife under the joint at 1, and lifting the pinion with the fork, drawing off the wing with a slice of the breast attached. The leg, cut round, is easily released in the same way. The merry-thought may next be detached by turning it back from the breast; the neck-bones which are beneath the upper part of the wings are easily raised. Then the breast must be divided from the back by cutting through the ribs close under the breast. The back may then be turned uppermost, press the point of the knife in the midst, and raise the lower end to separate it. Then remove the rump, and cut off the side bones which lie on each side of the back by forcing the knife through the rump-bone and drawing them from the back-bone; these side bones include the delicate morsel called the oyster. The breast and wings are the choice parts; the liver, which is trussed under one wing, should be divided to offer part with the other wing, the gizzard being rarely eaten; but the legs in a young fowl, and especially in a boiled fowl, are very good; the merry-thought too is a delicacy. If the fowl be very large, it is commonly carved like a turkey, with slices first cut from the breast. When a fowl is sent to table cold at luncheon or supper, it is often carved first and then neatly tied together with white ribbons. This looks well, and is very convenient in a large party.
[Illustration]
A duck, if large, must be carved as directed for a goose, by cutting slices from the breast, and afterwards removing the wings and legs; but if a very young bird, it is commonly disjointed first and then served in the same way as a fowl. The seasoned onions and sage placed under the apron may be removed with a spoon if required, but some have an objection to the strong flavour, and it is necessary to know that it is not disagreeable to them before you place it on the plate.
The choice part of a wild duck is the breast, which is cut in long slices from the neck to the leg. It is rarely the bird is required to be disjointed, but if it be necessary, it can be cut up like a fowl.
In the same manner in which you carve a fowl fix your fork in the centre of the breast; cut slices from the breast; remove the leg, which is considered excellent, in a line at 3, and the wing at 3, 5. To draw off the merry-thought, pass the knife through the line 6 beneath it towards the neck, and it will easily be detached. In other respects serve it in the same way as a fowl, the breast and thigh being most valued.
[Illustration]
The first unrivalled bird of game, due on the 12th of August, breaking up the senate of the kingdom, and accessible only to the few whom wealth or privilege give theentréeinto the preserved regions, has, when even thrown into the market by the mercenary scions of the great, a considerable value; and perhaps it is only in the North that it is properly cooked and appreciated. A moor bird requires a particular sagacity in carving, which is a secret to the uninitiated. You may carve it like a common fowl; but the epicure alone knows that it is in the back that the true flavour of the heath is found, and in the North the back is recognized as the chief delicacy, and must be carefully proportioned among the guests.
The partridge is always well received in dinner society; and if the party be large and the supply of game small, the partridges must be jointed like a fowl, to make the most of them, but in a small party it is only necessary to fix the knife in the back, and separate the bird at once into back and breast, dividing it then according to the number of guests, always remembering that the back of a well-fed partridge is by no means a despicable morsel.
The great peculiarity in carving the woodcock or snipe is, that the bird is not drawn like other birds, but roasted as it is plucked, suspended by the head, with a toast beneath, on which thetrail, as it is called, or internal part, is allowed to drop; and when the birds are roasted, which should be rapidly done in twenty minutes, the trail should be spread over each toast and the bird served up on it. It is then only necessary to carve each bird through the breast and back, with its due proportion of the trail and toast. The best part, however, if carved, is the thigh.
As the pigeon is too small a bird to disjoint, it is the fairest division to cut it through the middle of the breast and back in two equal parts. Another mode is to insert the knife at 1, and cut on each side to 2 and 3, and forcing them asunder, to divide each portion into two; but this is not needed except in a large party.
[Illustration]
Fieldfares, larks, corn-crakes, quails, plovers, and ruffs and reeves, should be always cut through the breast, and served only for two helps.
[Illustration]
The old way of carving a hare, still insisted on at many economical tables, is somewhat elaborate. You must first insert the knife in the point of the shoulder marked 1, and divide it down along the line to the rump, 2; and doing the same at the opposite side, the hare falls into three pieces. Pass the knife under the shoulder, 2—1, and remove it; then the leg, which is really good, in a similar manner. The animal must be beheaded, for it is necessary to divide the head, which must be done by turning the mouth towards you, holding it steadily down with the fork, inserting the knife through the bone between the ears, and forcing it through, entirely dividing it. Half the head is given to any one that requires it, the crisp ears being first cut off, a delicacy some prefer. The back, which is the most tender part, must now be divided through the spine into several pieces; it is only after the back is distributed that it is necessary to have recourse to the shoulders and legs. If the hare be old, it is useless to attempt to carve it entirely at table, the joints become so stubborn with age; and it is then usual to cut long slices on each side of the back-bone. A great deal of the blood usually settles in the shoulders and back of the neck, giving the flesh a richness which epicures like; and these parts, called the sportsman's pieces, are sometimes demanded. The seasoning or stuffing of a hare lies inside, and must be drawn out with a spoon.
The rules for carving a hare sufficiently direct the mode of carving a rabbit, except that, being so much smaller, the back is never divided into more than two or three pieces, and the head is served whole, if demanded. The wing is thought a choice part by many.
Toasts and Sentiments.
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British belles and British fashions.
Laughing lovers to merry maids.
Love and opportunity.
Love's slavery.
Love without licentiousness, and pleasure without excess.
Love, liberty, and length of blissful days.
Love without fear, and life without care.
Love for one.
Life, love, liberty, and true friendship.
Love in every breast, liberty in every heart, and learning in every head.
Love at liberty, and liberty in love.
Love: may it never make a wise man play the fool.
Artless love and disinterested friendship.
All that love can give, and sensibility enjoy.
A speedy union to every lad and lass.
Beauty's best companion—Modesty.
Beauty, innocence, and modest merit.
Beauty without affectation, and virtue without deceit.
Community of goods, unity of hearts, nobility of sentiment, and truth of feeling to the lovers of the fair sex.
Charms to strike the sight, and merit to win the heart.
Constancy in love, and sincerity in friendship.
Here's a health to the maid that is constant and kind,Who to charms bright as Venus's adds Diana's mind.I'll toast Britain's daughters—let all fill their glasses—Whose beauty and virtue the whole world surpasses.May blessings attend them, go wherever they will,And foul fall the man that e'er offers them ill.
Love without deceit, and matrimony without regret.
Love's garlands: may they ever entwine the brows of every true-hearted lover.
Lovely woman—man's best and dearest gift of life.
Love to one, friendship to a few, and good-will to all.
Long life, pure love, and boundless liberty.
May love and reason be friends, and beauty and prudence marry.
May the lovers of the fair sex never want the means to defend them.
May the sparks of love brighten into a flame.
May the joys of the fair give pleasure to the heart.
May we be loved by those whom we love.
May we kiss whom we please, and please whom we kiss.
May the bud of affection be ripened by the sunshine ofsincerity.
May a virtuous offspring succeed to mutual and honourablelove.
May the presence of the fair curb the licentious.
May the confidence of love be rewarded with constancy in its object.
May the honourable lover attain the object of his wishes.
May the lovers of the fair be modest, faithful, and kind.
May the wings of love never lose a feather.
May the blush of conscious innocence ever deck the faces of the British fair.
May the union of persons always be founded on that of hearts.
May the generous heart ever meet a chaste mate.
May the temper of our wives be suited to those of their husbands.
May true passion never meet with a slight.
May every woman have a protector, but not a tyrant.
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May we act with reason when the bottle circulates.
May good fortune resemble the bottle and bowl,And stand by the man who can't stand by himself.
May we never want wine, nor a friend to partake of it.
May our love of the glass never make us forget decency.
May the juice of the grape enliven each soul,And good humour preside at the head of each bowl.
May mirth exalt the feast.
May we always get mellow with good wine.
May the moments of mirth be regulated by the dial of reason.
Champagne to our real friends, and real pain to our shamfriends.
Come, every man now give his toast—Fill up the glass—I'll tell you mine:Wine is the mistress I love most!This is my toast—now give me thine.