Of the virtues of lettuce, at any rate, there can be no doubt, Parkinson having declared that "Lettices all cool a hot and fainting stomache," and Gerarde averring that "Lettuce cooleth the heate of the stomache, called the heart-burning, and helpeth it when it is troubled with choller." And if these assertions be not sufficient, we have Savarin's assurance that "salad refreshes without weakening, and comforts without irritating"; not to mention the dictum of his illustrious predecessor La Reynière, that "the inseparable partner of the roast may reappear at each meal without ever wearying." In 1758 a German work by J. F. Schutze was published in Leipzig with the title, "Treatise on the Advantages and Disadvantages of Salads." It is difficult to imagine how a German could find aught but delight in this form of food, unless the native black radish was alluded to, or possibly the cucumber when improperly served. Rather let us at once accept the unqualified encomium of Jack Cade while in Iden's Kentish garden,--"I think this word 'sallet' was born to do me good." By the majority, the name of Sydney Smith is held to be almost synonymous with that of salad; and even though his recipe be widely familiar, it may not be overlooked in considering the literature of gastronomy: "Our forte in the culinary line" [says the witty prelate] "is our salads; I pique myself on our salads. Saba always dresses them after my recipe. I have put it into verse. Taste it, and if you like it I will give it you. I was not aware how much it had contributed to my reputation till I met Lady---- at Bowood, who begged to be introduced to me, saying she had so long wished to know me. I was of course highly flattered till she added, 'For, Mr. Smith, I have heard so much of your recipe for salads, that I was most anxious to obtain it from you.' Such and so various are the sources of fame. "To make this condiment your poet begs The pounded yellow of two hard-boil'd eggs; Two boiled potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give. Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, And, scarce suspected, animate the whole. Of mordant mustard add a single spoon, Distrust the condiment that bites so soon; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault To add a double quantity of salt. Four times the spoon with oil from Lucca crown, And twice with vinegar procured from town; And, lastly, o'er the flavour'd compound toss A magic soupçon of anchovy sauce. Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat! 'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat; Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl. Serenely full, the epicure would say, 'Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.'"