THE "big dinner" of the week is, in most homes, eaten on Sunday. Then the men of the family are at home for the day, the children have no claims of school or play to hurry them through their meals, and there is a general impression of delightful leisure which seems favorable to the eating and digestion of an excellent and hearty dinner. This repast is usually served at midday, in order that the servants may have the afternoon and evening to themselves; and it is not uncommon for the mistress of the house to prepare the Sunday-evening tea herself.

The old-fashioned idea of always having a cold dinner on the Sabbath is almost obsolete. Some people who have been brought up in the habit clung for a long while to the compromise of serving a piece of cold meat at the Sunday dinner, although the vegetables were hot; but even that is changed now, and there are few homes where as large an array of smoking viands is not spread upon

as is ever offered on any non-religious holiday.

The reasons given at the beginning of this chapter are quite sufficient to account for this almost universal practice. The good housekeeper enjoys seeing her culinary handiwork appreciated, and she generally reserves any especially tempting bonnes bouches for Sunday, when she knows that those for whom she delights to cater will have the time and inclination to give her cookery its meed of attention. Without cavilling at this, one must at the same time deprecate the amount of additional work that the Sunday dinner often involves upon what should be, both physically and spiritually, a day of rest as well as of refreshment. A little thought will often enable the housekeeper to so minify the amount of work to be done on Sunday that the domestic labors will be perceptibly lightened, and the dinner in no wise injured. So much of the preparation for the meal can be made the day before that the business of finally getting it ready for the table will seem comparatively light.

In one family of strong Sabbatarian principles the omission of soup from the Sunday bill of fare was evidently considered a means of grace. The tureen and ladle always enjoyed a rest upon the first day of the week, but by some curious process of ratiocination no harm was thought of having at dinner a course of salad which cost as much time to prepare, and demanded the use and washing of as many dishes as would have sufficed to serve the tabooed soup. Yet the hostess would always say, with an air of conscious virtue, "Oh, we never have soup on Sundays," as though the non-appearance of that dish upon the first day of the week was proof positive of a high order of piety.

In spite of this, the soup course may be made a very trifling affair. To say nothing of two or three excellent brands of canned soups, which, with a little "doctoring" in the way of seasoning, may be rendered quite equal to those freshly made, there are many soups which can be brought on Saturday into a state of such complete readiness that all that is necessary on Sunday is to heat them for the table. Of these are chicken, mutton, and veal broths, consommÉ, Julienne, ox-tail, mock-turtle, black or white bean and pea soup—indeed, nearly every soup with a meat stock. Cream soups, like tomato, celery, potato, cauliflower, green pea, and corn soups, are better prepared just before using, and these may be served on week-days and yet leave a large variety of potages from which to make a choice for the Sunday dinner.

Leaving the soup, something should be said concerning the introduction of entrÉes, etc. They are not necessary at a repast so essentially domestic as the first-day feast. Even if they are prepared the day before, their insertion in the bill of fare compels the use and washing of another set of plates. The man-servant and maid-servant within our gates merit a little consideration upon a day which should bring to them too a modicum of rest. Still, if an entrÉe is occasionally desired, there are those which may be made on Saturday, and will need only warming to be fit for the table, such as pÂtÉs of various kinds. For these both pastry shells and filling may be prepared the day before, so that simply heating them and putting them together will comprise the work involved in getting them ready for the table.

When the meat course is reached it becomes less easy to shirk Sunday labor. The roast may be bound and skewered, the turkey or chickens trussed for roasting, the bread crumbed for the stuffing, on Saturday, but the stuffing must not go in until the last moment, nor must the meats, to be at their best, be put into the oven until just in time to permit their being done in season for dinner. With vegetables, too, much of the excellence depends upon brisk cooking. Few of them are, like spinach, benefited by each time of warming over. Since this heavy work cannot be avoided, all the housekeeper can do is to make the rest of the meal as easy as possible for herself and her servants. At the best, there will be enough to do.

If a salad is served, the mayonnaise dressing, if this is used, is no whit injured by keeping on the ice even for two or three days. The fish, flesh, or fowl, when such enter into the composition of the salad, may be minced the day before, and kept in a cold place until needed. Or if, as is better at dinner, a simple salad of lettuce, celery, or something of the kind is used, upon which the hostess bestows an ordinary French dressing after it is brought to the table, the washing and picking over of the salad are a trifling matter.

As to desserts, it is a peculiar taste which refuses to be satisfied with some one of the many that can be made in part or entirely the day before.

The number of cold desserts is legion, and ranges all the way from ices and frozen creams through charlottes, jellies, and the like, to the simple blanc-manges and custards, to say nothing of preserved or brandied fruit. Pies of countless kinds there are which can readily be heated, if a hot dessert is wished, and there are delicious cakes which are almost a dessert in themselves. Besides all these, in this favored period, there is scarcely a day in the year when an attractive dish of fresh fruit is beyond the reach of people of moderate means.

While anything approaching a desecration of the Sabbath is to be avoided, there should yet be a cheerfulness, a pleasant freedom of speech at the Sunday dinner-table that ought to render it the happiest meal of the week. It is not the season for ceremonious entertaining—a large Sunday dinner-party is not in America in the best form, even in so-called worldly society—but it is the time for making a place within the circle of the home for solitary men or women far from their own people, who have only boarding-places or restaurants at which to eat their Sunday dinner. To them even a simple meal, eaten in a private house and among friends, is a choice treat, and inviting them is a deed which may fitly be classed among the works of mercy which even the Westminster Catechism permits.