“The liberal use of various fruits as food is conducive to good health. Fruit is not a solid and lasting element like beef and bread, and does not give strength to any great extent. But fruits contain those acids which refresh and give tone to the system during the season when it is most needed. They should never be eaten unless thoroughly ripe, or cooked. Stale fruits, or those that have been plucked some time, are unhealthy in the extreme. The proper time to eat fruit is in the morning and early afternoon. At night it is ‘leaden,’ according to the Spanish, who call fruit ‘golden in the morning and silver at noon.’” These words of general advice fitly introduce our “apples, peaches, strawberries, and blackberries,” for whose use, fresh and uncooked, we would strongly plead. RIPE FRUIT.—Wash and polish apples with a clean towel, and pile in a china fruit basket, with an eye to agreeable variety of color. Of peaches and pears the finest should be selected, handling as little as may be, and pile upon a salver or flat dish, with bits of ice between them, and ornament with peach leaves or fennel sprigs. One of the prettiest dishes of fruit I ever saw upon a dessert table was an open silver basket, wide at the top, heaped with rich red peaches and yellow Bartlett pears, interspersed with feathery bunches of green, which few of those who admired it knew for carrot tops. Wild white clematis wreathed the handle and showed here and there among the fruit, while scarlet and white verbenas nestled amid the green. Send around powdered sugar with the fruit, as many like to dip peaches and pears in it after paring and quartering them. Never wash strawberries or raspberries that are intended to be eaten as fresh fruit. If they are so gritty as to require this process keep them off the table. You will certainly ruin the flavor beyond repair if you wash them, and as certainly induce instant fermentation and endanger the coats of the eaters’ stomachs, if, after profaning the exquisite delicacy of the fruit to this extent, you complete the evil work by covering them with sugar, and leaving them to leak their lives sourly away for one or two hours. Put them on the table in glass dishes, piling them high and lightly; send around powdered sugar with them and cream, that the guests may help themselves. It is not economical, perhaps, but it is a healthful and pleasant style of serving them—I had almost said the only decent one. “But I don’t know who picked them,” cries Mrs. Fussy.