And now that my readers know all about the ingredients of curry-powder--it is assumed that no analysis of the chili, the ginger-root, or the peppercorn, is needed--let them emulate the pupils of Mr. Wackford Squeers, and "go and do it." ANOTHER RECIPE for curry-powder includes fenugreek, cardamoms, allspice, and cloves; but I verily believe that this was the powder used in that abominable Parsee hell-broth, above alluded to, so it should be cautiously approached, if at all. "Fenugreek" sounds evil; and I should say a curry compounded of the above ingredients would taste like a "Number One" pick-me-up. Yet another recipe (DOCTOR KITCHENER'S) specifies six ounces of coriander seed, five ounces of turmeric (_ower muckle, I'm of opeenion_) two ounces each of black pepper and mustard seed (_ochone!_), half an ounce of cumin seed, half an ounce of cinnamon (_donner und blitzen!_), and one ounce of lesser cardamoms. All these things are to be placed in a cool oven, kept therein one night, and pounded in a marble mortar next morning, preparatory to being rubbed through a sieve. "Kitchener" sounds like a good cooking name; but, with all due respect, I am not going to recommend his curry-powder. A MALAY CURRY is made with blanched almonds, which should be fried in butter till lightly browned. Then pound them to a paste with a sliced onion and some thin lemon-rind. Curry powder and gravy are added, and a small quantity of cream. The Malays curry all sorts of fish, flesh, and fowl, including the young shoots of the bamboo--and nice tender, succulent morsels they are. At a hotel overlooking the harbour of Point de Galle, Ceylon, "run," at the time of the writer's visit, by a most convivial and enterprising Yankee, a canning concocter of all sorts of "slings" and "cocktails," there used to be quite a plethora of curries in the bill-of-fare. But for a prawn curry there is no place like the City of Palaces. And the reason for this super-excellence is that the prawns--but that story had, perhaps, best remain untold. CURRIED LOCUSTS formed one of the most eccentric dishes ever tasted by the writer. There had come upon us that day a plague of these all-devouring insects. A few billions called on us, in our kitchen gardens, in passing; and whilst they ate up every green thing--including the newly-painted wheelbarrow, and the regimental standard, which had been incautiously left out of doors--our faithful blacks managed to capture several _impis_ of the marauding scuts, in revenge; and the mess-cook made a right savoury _plât_ of their hind-quarters.