TAKE eight parts by weight of meal (Rumford says ‘wheat or rye meal,’ and I add, or oatmeal), and one part of butter. Melt the butter in a clean _iron_ frying-pan, and, when thus melted, sprinkle the meal into it; stir the whole briskly with a broad wooden spoon or spatula till the butter has disappeared and the meal is of a uniform brown colour, like roasted coffee, great care being taken to prevent burning on the bottom of the pan. About half an ounce of this roasted meal boiled in a pint of water, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and vinegar, forms ‘burnt soup,’ much used by the wood-cutters of Bavaria, who work in the mountains far away from any habitations. Their provisions for a week (the time they commonly remain in the mountains) consist of a large loaf of rye bread (which, as it does not so soon grow dry and stale as wheaten bread, is always preferred to it); a linen bag, containing a small quantity of roasted meal, prepared as above; another small bag of salt, and a small wooden box containing some pounded black pepper; and sometimes, but not often, a small bottle of vinegar; but _black pepper_ is an ingredient never omitted. The rye bread, which eaten alone or with cold water would be very hard fare, is rendered palatable and satisfactory, Rumford thinks also more wholesome and nutritious, by the help of a bowl of hot soup, so easily prepared from the roasted meal. He tells us that this is not only used by the wood-cutters, but that it is also the common breakfast of the Bavarian peasant, and adds that ‘it is infinitely preferable, in all respects, to that most pernicious wash, _tea_, with which the lower classes of the inhabitants of this island drench their stomachs and ruin their constitutions.’ He adds that ‘when tea is taken with a sufficient quantity of sugar and good cream, and with a large quantity of bread-and-butter, or with toast and boiled eggs, and, above all, _when it is not drunk too hot_, it is certainly less unwholesome; but a simple infusion of this drug, drunk boiling hot, as the poor usually take it, is certainly a poison, which, though it is sometimes slow in its operation, never fails to produce fatal effects, even in the strongest constitutions, where the free use of it is continued for a considerable length of time.’ This may appear to many a very strong condemnation of their favourite beverage; nevertheless, I am satisfied that it is sound; and my opinion is not hastily adopted, nor borrowed from Rumford, but a conclusion based upon many observations, extending over a long period of years, and confirmed by experiments made upon myself.