The People's Press, And Anti Masonic Democrat

From a Western Paper.

MY UNCLE'S PLUM PUDDING.

Reader, I believe I must tell you a story about my Uncle's plum pudding. This was a dish that Uncle Samuel's numerous family were very fond of. You must know that he had the charge of some dozen roystering youngsters, whom he found it very difficult to please. He was very attentive to their wants, and furnished them daily with fresh pies, tarts, custards, and other knick-nacks in extravagant abundance. But the little fellows after a while got tired of these, and began to cry aloud for something new, and something better. The manner of the introduction of the plum pudding to the table of the dainty complainants was as follows: They began anon, I say, to complain of the unvaried sameness and oldness of their messes. Grumbling and pouting succeeded, and daily increased, and pies and tarts were carried from the table untasted. This placed Uncle Samuel in rather a mortifying and perplexing situation. The youngsters must be gratified-that was necessary to the peace and union of the family. How should it be done? Uncle Samuel loved his nephews and godsons right fatherly; and the energy and precision with which he would lay down his cane, cross his legs, turn up his silver specs, and fold his arms when thinking upon the difficulties attending his situation as guardian and provider to such a noisy batch of children, manifested the interest he felt in their happiness and comfort. He was sitting alone one day, worrying himself upon this point, when he was disturbed by a little fellow, who came bouncing into his study, exclaiming with a yell of delight:

"Uncle, uncle! come down! do! here's a man that's got the nicest pudding-O 'tis so good! you'll buy it won't you, uncle ?"

"We'll see, child," said Uncle Samuel; and picking up his cane, he followed the intruder down stairs.

"Dear uncle, do have some made!" was heard on all sides. A pastry cook had entered with a fine plum pudding, steaming temptingly on a large platter. He had given them all a taste.- They were enchanted, and manifested their delight in boisterous shouts.

"What is your name, sir?" said uncle Samuel.

"Nicholas, sir."

"Do you make such puddings?"

"I made that, and have made many more."

"Will you live with me, and make my family a pudding like that every day?"

"I will, sir."

"Then go into my kitchen and go to work."

The thing was fixed-Uncle Sam was relieved; the children capered for joy, and good order and contentment was again restored. From that time the plum pudding was on the table every day, and great was the destruction thereof.

Now this state of things was too happy to last long. You must know that Uncle Samuel, in order to have some sort of regulation in his family, appointed now and then a monitor or moderator, whose duty it was to see that every thing went on properly and amicably; settle all trifling disputes, and exercise a little authority when necessary, to quell any disturbance, or prevent misconduct. The monitor at this time happened to be a head strong, self-willed roisterer, by the name of Andrew. His intimate associates were a bully named Thomas, and a little cunning red-headed sneaking meddler named Martin. These three having filled their heads with a crazy desire to make an experiment in pudding making, assailed Uncle Samuel, who was congratulating himself upon the unanimity, good health, and good feeling that prevailed in his household fraternity-one day, and succeeded by snarling and coaxing, in obtaining from him a discharge for Nicholas.

"I did it!" shouted Andrew, with an air of malicious satisfaction and triumph, as he handed Nicholas the paper that noted the date of the termination of his services. He received it without surprise or regret, and immediately left the house.

"Now we'll make a pudding," said Andrew.-

"I've seen Nick make them so often, that I know I can do it just as well; let's go into the kitchen."

All was confusion and disorder-and a general rush was made for the kitchen-each one determined to have a hand in the manufacture of Andrew's pudding. Bruised shins, smashed toes, and aching noses were abundant: for Andrew had forgotten his duty and authority in the eagerness with which he desired to commence his experiment in plum pudding making; a desire to meddle with that about which he knew nothing.

The manufacture was commenced. A large iron pot was put over the fire and partly filled with water. A tin pan was then set upon the table and the mixing went forward vigorously. Every busy urchin had a finger in it-except a few, who folded their arms, and, winking at each other, stood inactive spectators of the scene. Flour was thrown into the pan in ad libitum quantities -raisins by handfuls-and eggs dropped in by the dozen ; as each one cracked a shell upon the edge of the pan. Spoons, sticks, and forks, served to beat up the delectable mass, and the whole was poured into a bag and tied up-this was thrown into the pot, under which a brisk fire was kindled, and the whole affair seemed to be going off crackling.

"Goody!" suddenly exclaimed one, "I'll bet a fip we didn't put any salt in."

To take off the pot, untie the bag, and throw in a handful of salt, was quick work; and the pot again swung with its treasure over the blazing faggots. It had but just got well boiling again, when another muttered the suspicion that they had forgot the sugar.

"Fact!" said Martin-"haul off the pot!- Francis, bring the sugar bowl."

In a few minutes the flames were again curling about the bottom of the smutty kettle, and a sputtering and bubbling began that made the three chief cookies chuckle with delight.

"Martin, don't you reckon its done? It's dinner time."

Martin ventured to assume that it was done ; and the majority backing his assumption by an open declaration that it was undoubtedly thoroughly done, the pot was taken from the fire, and a large platter brought for the reception of the pudding. How the little eager fellows did gather about the pot, clap their hands, and grin, as Andrew approached to take it up. What a dinner they would have! Andrew took off the lid.

"Damnation!"

"What's the matter?"

"The pot's as dry as if it never had a drop of water in it, and the pudding is burnt all to pieces."

Each hungry pudding lover shrank sullenly away, mortified and vexed. What would uncle say ; what would they do for dinner?

"May be the top's done," said one, removing the cloth. But a glance at the revealed mass of burnt flour, roasted raisins, and boiled eggs, confirmed each in the opinion that there would be no dinner. They felt disgraced and chagrined.

Just about this time, Nicholas, happening to be passing, peeped in at the window, and smiled provokingly at the long visaged group within.- It was a malicious trick-and the boys could have spitted him upon the spot. The outbreaking of their anger, however, was prevented by the entrance of uncle Samuel.

He observed the perplexity and discomfiture marked on each face, and soon ascertained the cause. Uncle Samuel was a man of few words and very uncompromising when decided. He quietly raised his eyes to the window, where was standing the inexorable Nicholas.

"You make these children a little pudding? You see their misfortune."

"Say when, and how big," said Nicholas, with an arch smile of triumph, "and it shall be here."

Plum pudding is a very fine thing, reader, but it takes an excellent cook to make it.

This by way of moral.

YORICK.