mutton; a little salt.
_Mode_.--Trim off a portion of the fat, should there be too much, and if
it is to look particularly nice, the chine-bone should be sawn down, the
ribs stripped halfway down, and the ends of the bones chopped off; this
is, however, not necessary. Put the meat into sufficient _boiling_ water
to cover it; when it boils, add a little salt and remove all the scum.
Draw the saucepan to the side of the fire, and let the water get so cool
that the finger may be borne in it; then simmer very _slowly_ and gently
until the meat is done, which will be in about 1-1/2 hour, or rather
more, reckoning from the time that it begins to simmer.
Serve with turnips and caper sauce, No. 382, and pour a little of it
over the meat. The turnips should be boiled with the mutton; and, when
at hand, a few carrots will also be found an improvement. These,
however, if very large and thick, must be cut into long thinnish pieces,
or they will not be sufficiently done by the time the mutton is ready.
Garnish the dish with carrots and turnips placed alternately round the
mutton.
_Time_.--4 lbs. of the neck of mutton, about 1-1/2 hour.
_Average cost_, 8-1/2 d. per lb.
_Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons.
_Seasonable_ at any time.
THE POETS ON SHEEP.--The keeping of flocks seems to have been
the first employment of mankind; and the most ancient sort of
poetry was probably pastoral. The poem known as the Pastoral
gives a picture of the life of the simple shepherds of the
golden age, who are supposed to have beguiled their time in
singing. In all pastorals, repeated allusions are made to the
"fleecy flocks," the "milk-white lambs," and "the tender ewes;"
indeed, the sheep occupy a position in these poems inferior only
to that of the shepherds who tend them. The "nibbling sheep" has
ever been a favourite of the poets, and has supplied them with
figures and similes without end. Shakspere frequently compares
men to sheep. When Gloster rudely drives the lieutenant from the
side of Henry VI., the poor king thus touchingly speaks of his
helplessness;--
"So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat, unto the butcher's knife."
In the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," we meet with the following
humorous comparison:--
"_Proteus_. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the
shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for wages
followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee;
therefore, thou art a sheep.
"_Speed_. Such another proof will make me cry _baa_."
The descriptive poets give us some charming pictures of sheep.
Every one is familiar with the sheep-shearing scene in Thomson's
"Seasons:"--
"Heavy and dripping, to the breezy brow
Slow move the harmless race; where, as they spread
Their dwelling treasures to the sunny ray,
Inly disturb'd, and wond'ring what this wild
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints
The country fill; and, toss'd from rock to rock,
Incessant bleatings run around the hills."
What an exquisite idea of stillness is conveyed in the
oft-quoted line from Gray's "Elegy:"--
"And drowsy tinklings lull the distant fold."
From Dyer's quaint poem of "The Fleece" we could cull a hundred
passages relating to sheep; but we have already exceeded our
space. We cannot, however, close this brief notice of the
allusions that have been made to sheep by our poets, without
quoting a couple of verses from Robert Burns's "Elegy on Poor
Mailie," his only "pet _yowe_:"--
"Thro' a' the town she troll'd by him;
A lang half-mile she could descry him;
Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him.
She ran wi' speed;
A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam' nigh him
Than Mailie dead.
"I wat she was a sheep o' sense.
An' could behave hersel' wi' mense;
I'll say't, she never brak a fence,
Thro' thievish greed.
Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence,
Sin' Mailie's dead."
MUTTON COLLOPS (Cold Meat Cookery).