File:The Boston Cooking School magazine of culinary science and domestic economics (1913) (14797761013).jpg

Identifier: bostoncookingsch19hill_12 (find matches)
Title: The Boston Cooking School magazine of culinary science and domestic economics
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors: Hill, Janet McKenzie, 1852-1933, ed Boston Cooking School (Boston, Mass.)
Subjects: Home economics Cooking
Publisher: Boston : Boston Cooking-School Magazine
Contributing Library: Boston Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Public Library

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
nt causes of failure in designing small houses is the striving after effects incompatible with true simplicity. Here, instead, there is a marked lack of pretentousness. Undoubtedly, that is the real secret of that indefinable charm — a charm intensified by harmonious coloring and simple composition — which is so apparent both within and without this little country home on a Massachusetts hillside. The Forgotten Can you remember In December How sweet the roses were in June, Or, in recalling, Hear, enthralling, As of old some long loved tune? Time takes forever And gives back never From vales of silence in the past; Some moments clearer, Seldom dearer. Alone she keeps and makes them last. Some friendships olden, Love hour golden — These she holds, but others die; And when we wonder, Tis to ponder Why others loved must pass us by. Such is the measure Of times pleasure. To take, and why we never know; Vain is our seeking Or bespeaking — Too far the Land of Long Ago! Arthur W. Peach.
Text Appearing After Image:
CHRISTMAS DINNER TABLE. SHOWING LOBSTER COCKTAIL SERVICE, WITH GRAHAM AND WHITE-BREAD SANDWICHES Beyond the Soup By Ladd Plumley IF Polhemus had been the heroine of the modern heart-throb, he would have thrown himself on the omnipresent sofa and burst into wild sobs. In fiction of an earlier time he would have sworn a mighty oath and ordered his minions to saddle his palfry that he might away to the wars. Polhemus did neither of these things. He said a strong word, grabbed his pipe, and took the elevator to a studi oon the top floor. Whats up? asked the painter turning from his easel. Nothing, according to your Crusoe ideas. I can guess. The inevitable has gripped your innards. The fair one has flipped the mitten. Thats what you call humor, remarked Polhemus, crunching unpleasantly on the stem of his pipe, and throwing himself into a chair. Beg pardon, old fellow. I really want to liven you up. You look like the last of the Sadducees. Lets have it! She's right; April is always right. Everybody says it

Note About Images