For every cupful of fruit juice take one half cupful of cider vinegar and two cupfuls of sugar. Put the fruit, sugar, and vinegar over the fire, stir until the sugar dissolves, and boil until a thick syrup. Skim if necessary, strain, and bottle. When served, allow one fourth cupful of syrup to half or three fourths of a cupful of ice water.
Use ripe red raspberries, and prepare according to directions given for Blackberry Shrub.
Fill the tumbler half full of cracked ice. Add one tablespoonful of sweetened raspberry juice and one tablespoonful of cream. Fill the glass with soda water.
Crush two or three sprays of mint with a lump of sugar. Put into a glass half full of cracked ice. Add four tablespoonfuls of grape juice and fill the glass to the brim with charged water. Shake thoroughly and strain into another glass.
Squeeze the juice of a lemon into a tall glass, add two inches of shaved ice, two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar and fill the glass with seltzer or Apollinaris.
Upon a tablespoonful of good tea pour two quarts of boiling water. In the meantime have ready the juice and peelings of three lemons and one orange in a pitcher. When the tea has steeped for five minutes, strain through a fine strainer into the pitcher. Add a cupful of sugar and cool slowly. At serving-time put into glasses with plenty of ice.
There is an old saying to the effect that "all may eat, but ladies and gentlemen dine." The difference lies more in the preparation and manner of serving than in the food itself, and whether her evening meal is a banquet or a repast of the lunch-counter sort rests wholly with the housewife.
We pause long enough to pay our disrespects to that barbarous institution known in America as the Sunday Dinner. On six days in the week, the average business man eats a light luncheon or none at all. On the seventh day, at an unaccustomed hour, he eats a heavy meal, goes to sleep shortly afterward, and wonders why Monday is a "blue day."
Our uncivilized Sundays are responsible for our Monday morning headaches and for the gloom which, in many a household, does not wear off until Tuesday morning. If Sunday were a day of fasting instead of a day of feasting, Monday might be radiant occasionally instead of riotous or revolutionary.