The International Monthly, Volume 5, No. 4, April, 1852Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 5, No. 4, April, 1852
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
If a man would prevent hail from coming down, he is to walk about his
garden, with a crocodile--stuffed, of course--and hang it up in the
middle. Pieces of the skin of a hippopotamus, wherever they are buried,
keep off storms. A thunder-storm also can be put to rout by firing
cannons at it; "for by the force of the sound moving the air, the
exhalations are driven upward." (In the same way, the plague was said to
yield before a cannonade.) "Some who observe hail coming on, bring a
huge looking-glass, and observe the largeness of the cloud, and by that
remedy,--whether objected against, or despised by it, or it is
displeased with it; or whether, being doubled, it gives way to the
other" (in some way or other one must find out a reason), "they suddenly
turn it off and remove it." An owl stuck up in the fields, with its
wings spread, served also as a scare-crow to the tempests. As lightning
conductor on a roof, it was thought wise to put an egg-shell, out of
which a chicken had been hatched on Ascension-day. Thunderbolt stones
were said to sweat during a storm, which was not thought a more
wonderful "fact" than the perspirations streaming out of glass windows
"in winter when the stove is hot." Our ancestors were far too wise to be
surprised at any thing.
Secrets of alchemy, magic, and astrology are, of course, very profound;
we pass over these and many more; among secrets of cookery we pause,
shuddering. Whipping young pigs to death, to make them tender eating,
used to be quite bad enough; and some of our own hidden devices in the
meat trade are, even now, equally revolting; but here we meet with a
device of the wise ancestors, which may, perhaps, stand at the head of
all culinary horrors. Remembering that these cooks were also apt at
roasting men, we will inflict this illustration on our readers: "_To
roast a Goose alive._ Let it be a duck or goose, or some such lively
creature; but a goose is best of all for this purpose; leaving his neck,
pull off all the feathers from his body, then make a fire round about
him, not too wide, for that will not roast him; within the place set
here and there small pots full of water, with salt and honey mixed
therewith, and let there be dishes set full of roasted apples, and cut
in pieces in the dish, and let the goose be basted with butter all over,
and larded to make him better meat, and he may roast the better; put
fire to it; do not make too much haste, when he begins to roast, walking
about, and striving to fly away; the fire stops him in, and he will fall
to drink water to quench his thirst; this will cool his heart, and the
other parts of his body, and, by this medicament, he looseneth his belly
and grows empty. And when he roasteth and consumes inwardly, always wet
his head and heart with a wet sponge; but when you see him run madding
and stumble, his heart wants moisture, take him away, set him before
your guests, and he will cry as you cut off any part from him, and will
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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