ping in the kitchen upon certain cold grouse which I knew were in the larder. Such a state of things, I repeat, would have been reprehensible, but I most sincerely hoped that it had occurred. A clandestine attachment, however misplaced, is better than burglary with possible violence. Coughing rather loudly, to give the gentleman notice that I was about, and to suggest that he had better take himself off in my temporary absence, I went up to the attics to make inquiries.

And here I am tempted to a digression concerning the excessive somnolency of female domestics. As regards our own, at least, they reminded me, except in number, of the Seven Sleepers. I knocked at their door about a quarter of an hour before attracting their attention, and it took me another quarter to convince them (through the keyhole) that it was not fire. If it had been, they must all have been burnt in their beds. Relieved upon this point, they were scarcely less excited and "put out" by the communication I was compelled to make to them, though conveyed with the utmost delicacy and refinement of which language is capable. I asked them whether by any accident one of them chanced to have a male relative who wore exceptionally thick highlows; and if he was likely to have called recently -that very evening, for example.

They all replied in indignant chorus that they had never heard of such a thing by which they meant the suggestion; and that no cousins of theirs ever did wear highlows, being all females without exception.

Satisfied as to this (and greatly disappointed), I felt that it was now incumbent upon me to pursue my researches. Candle in hand and pistol in pocket, I therefore explored the pantry. To my great relief, it was empty. Was it possible that the thief had departed? If so, he had gone without his highlows, for there they stood on the vestibule table as large as life, and, from the necessity of the case, a size or two larger. Their build and bulk, indeed, impressed me more than ever. Was it possible that only one burglar had come in those boots?

I entered the kitchen: not a mouse was stirring; on the other hand, there

was a legion of black beetles, who scuttled away in all directions except one. They avoided the dresser - beneath which lay the gentleman I was looking for, curled up in a space much too small for him, but affecting to be asleep. Indeed, though previously I had not even heard him breathe, no sooner did the light from my candle fall upon him than he began to snore stertorously. I felt at once that this was to give me the idea of the slumber that follows honest toil. I knew before he spoke that he was going to tell me how, tired and exhausted, he had taken shelter under my roof, with no other object (however suspicious might be the circumstances of his position) than a night's rest, of which he stood in urgent need.

"Don't shoot, sir," he said, for I took care to let the handle of Edward John's pistol protrude from my dressinggown. "I am poor, but honest; I only came in here for the warmth and to have a snooze.

"How did you get in ?" I inquired sternly.

"I just prized up the washus winder," was his plaintive reply," and laid down 'ere.'

large jar of Devonshire cream which we had just received as a present, I should have thought it mere impudence. I did think it rather impudent when he said. as he stood at the front door, which I had opened for his exit :

"Won't you give me half-a-crown, sir, to put me in an honest way of business?" But nevertheless, thinking it better to part good friends, I gave him what he asked for. He spit upon the coin "for luck," as he was good enough to explain, and also perhaps as a substitute for thanks, since he omitted to give me any, and slouched down the gravel sweep and out of the gate.

It was three o'clock; the mist had begun to clear, and the moon and stars were shining. A sort of holy calm began to pervade me. I felt that I had done a good action and also got rid of a very dangerous individual, and that it was high time that I should go to bed in peace with all men. My wife, however, who had been roused by the servants, was on the tip-toe of expectation to hear all that had taken place, and of course I had to tell her. I described each thrilling incident with such dramatic force that she averred that nothing would ever induce her in my absence to sleep in the house again. This was perhaps but the just punishment for a trifle of exaggeration in the narrative with which I had here and there indulged myself, but it was very unfortunate. Now and then I find myself detained in town, after dining at the club, by circumstances over which I have no control (such as a rubber at whist, which will sometimes stretch like india rubber), and hitherto I had only had to telegraph in the afternoon to express my regret that there was a possibility of my nonreturn. Here was an end to all this, unless I could reassure her. I therefore began to dwell upon the unlikelihood of a second burglar ever visiting the house, which I compared with that famous hole made by a cannon-ball, said to be a place of security from cannon-balls for

evermore.

"Oh, don't tell me," cried my wife, with just a trace of impatient irritation in her voice. "Hark goodness gracious, what is that coming along the road ?''

She thought it was a burglar on horse

back, whereas, if I may so express it, it was the very contrary-namely, the horse patrol.

"Knock at the window; call him in. I insist upon your seeing him," she exclaimed. I had no alternative, since she said "insist" (as any married man will understand), but to accede to her wishes; so I went out and told the patrol what had happened.

"How long ago was the fellow here, sir?" he inquired.

"More than an hour.

It is quite out

of the question you can overtake him. And besides, I really think he is repentant, and means for the future to lead an honest life."

"You do, do you?" said the patrol, in that sort of compassionate tone of voice in which the visitor of a lunatic asylum addresses an inmate warranted harmless. "Well, as I am here, I'll just go over the house and make sure there is no more of them. It is not impossible, you see, he may have left a pal behind him.'

"There was only one pair of boots," said I confidently; of that I am certain."

Nevertheless, as I felt it would be a satisfaction to my wife, I acceded to his request. He tied his horse to the scraper, and came in with his lantern, and looked about him. There was nobody in the front hall, of course, for I had just come through it; in the drawing-room nobody, in the vestibule nobody-but on the table where they had stood before stood a pair of gigantic navvy's boots.

What d'ye think of that?" whispered the patrol, pointing to one of them. They're the same,' I answered in hushed amazement, they're the very same. I could swear to them among a thousand. What can it mean ?”’

half-crown out of me. But the great probability was, he had doubtless argued, that all suspicion of burglars, for that night at least, would have died out, and that he would have had the undisputed range of the house. It was a bold game, but one in which all the chances seemed to be on his side.

I helped to fasten a strong strap to his wrist, which was already attached to that of the horse patrol's. "And now," said the latter coolly, we will go and put on our boots.

66

For the second time that night I saw that operation accomplished by my burglar, for the second time saw him walk off, though on this occasion a captive to his mounted companion. I did not

PUBLIC attention has at last been secured for a grievance which affects the whole community, though it has not been generally or adequately felt. The condition of our fish supply has long been a national scandal. With ample means of sustenance close at hand the poor of these islands have suffered want, while the hard-working and struggling classes have been embarrassed by the necessity forced upon them of living and feeding their families on food supplied at factitiously high prices, and the rich have had doled out to them as a luxury what ought to have been regarded and employed by the people generally as an abundant and cheap staple. The Committee of Inquiry which has investigated the state of Billingsgate Market and the condition of the trade in fish, will have failed to get at the facts, and done little or nothing in the urgent interest of the community as a whole, unless the mysteries of the fishing industry have been penetrated and the fishermen are freed from the commercial grip of the wholesale traders.

It has been shown that the supply is manipulated to suit the demand; that the needs of the people are subordinated to the interests of those who deal in the commodity. Fish might now be sold retail in London at two-pence or two

pence halfpenny per pound for all except two or three sorts, which would require some little time, say three or four seasons, to fulfil the conditions of a cheap supply. Nothing prevents this cheapening of fish but the provision of free markets. The mere multiplication of markets will not suffice; the trade must be thrown open, and placed on such a footing that the bondage in which the fishermen now stand to the wholesale salesmen and their agents may be destroyed. As it is, fish is either not caught, or thrown back into the sea, or allowed to rot and sold for manure instead of being supplied to the public, because the first consideration is profit, and prices must, at all costs, be maintained. There are practically two trades interested in the support and defence of this monopoly. The butchers are scarcely less concerned to "keep up" the retail price of fish than are the fishmongers. If a full and cheap supply of fish were placed at the disposal of the masses, and they came to know the truth as to its life and health sustaining properties, butchers' meat must be sold at lower rates, or it would fall out of common use. This may seem a startling statement, but it is not made at random or without a due sense of the responsibility which attaches to the assertion that

fish might well and worthily supply the place of butchers' meat as the staple of food for the whole population.

Pound for pound, fish is fully as nutritious as butchers' meat. It may not seem so satisfying, but that is because the sense of satisfaction which we experience in eating is the result of supplying the stomach with food and in no direct or immediate way related to the nourishment of the organism as a whole.* Very few of the solid substances we eat are digested, even so far as the stomach is concerned, in less than an hour, and nutrition cannot commence until after digestion has proceeded for some time. It follows that the feeling of satisfaction produced by solid food during a meal must be due to the appeasing of those cravings which are set up in the stomach rather than the supply of the needs of the system.

Inasmuch as butchers' meat is less easy of digestion than fish, and it gives the stomach more to do, it is easy to see why it seems, at the moment, more satisfying. Looking to the ultimate purposes of nutrition, fish is the better kind of food, it is more readily and completely reduced in the stomach, and it nourishes the organism more thoroughly, and with less physical inconvenience, than the flesh of warmblooded animals.

A common error in regard to the use of fish is the failure to recognize that there are two distinct classes of this staple, looked at as food. In one class, which may be represented by the mackerel and the salmon, the oil and fat are distributed throughout the flesh, while in the other, of which the cod and whiting may be taken as examples, the oil and fat are found almost exclusively in the internal organs, notably the liver. Now the oil and fat are necessary, and if the fish is not cooked and eaten whole, or nearly so, these most important parts are wasted. In cleaning fish, as little as possible should be removed. This is a point of the highest practical moment. Fishmongers and cooks need to be instructed afresh on the subject. To omit any portion of the liver of a cod in preparing the dish for the table is to throw

* I have tried to explain this in a chapter on "Eating," in a little work recently published, entitled How to Make the Best of Life."

away a great delicacy. away a great delicacy. A cod's liver properly dressed is a dish for a gourmet. It is inexplicable how anything so nauseous as the "cod-liver oil" of the chemist and druggist can be prepared from anything so nice as the liver of cod. Housekeepers and those who purvey for the table should take care that nothing edible in a fish is sacrificed. For cooking purposes it may be assumed that fish is not only good food, but food of the best description; well able to supply the needs of the system, and particularly easy of digestion. It is equally serviceable for the weakly as for the robust, the young as the old.

I am, however, at the moment, chiefly interested to ask consideration for results obtained in the experimental use of fish as food for the mentally exhausted, the worried, the "nervous," and the distressed in mind. To persons falling under either of these descriptions fish is not simply food; it acts as physic. The brain is nourished by it, the

nerves"-to use the term in its popular sense are 'quieted," the mind grows stronger, the temper less irritable, and the whole being healthier and happier when fish is substituted for butchers' meat. I am not prepared to adopt the theory that fish is thus useful because it contains phosphorus. It is doubtful whether under ordinary circumstances the flesh of fish is enriched by this element in a form available for brain-nutrition. Nor is it certain that phosphorus would act beneficially on all, or even the majority of brains. I offer no formal opinion on that point in this connection. The statements I am now making are not intended to be scientific, and I shall not attempt to support them by a technical argument. It must suffice to place the facts simply before my lay readers. As a matter of experience I find persons who are greatly excited, even to the extent of seeking to do violence to themselves or those around them, who cannot sleep and are in an agony of irritability, become composed and contented when fed almost exclusively on fish. In such cases I have withdrawn butter, milk, eggs, and all the varieties of warm-blooded animal food, and, carefully noting the weight and strength, I find no diminution of either while fish is supplied in such

quantities as to fully satisfy the appetite.

A great point in the use of fish as food is to vary the form in which it is given. The cook must be charged to devise new dishes and new ways of cooking, and to provide the several kinds of fish in season or procurable. No diet should on any account be allowed to become monotonous. In less excited cases, where there is rather depression and despondency than a high state of irritability, I allow milk, butter, and eggs in moderate quantities, but no butchers' meat; and, as far as possible, I give fish at every meal. This is important. In a class of cases which is particularly noteworthy, consisting of badly or imperfectly nourished children, in whom there would appear to be disproportionate development of the several parts of the organism-for example, the muscular system may outgrow the brain and nervous system-the fish diet produces the best possible results. Such cases abound. The offspring of parents between whom there is a considerable difference of age, commonly suffer from disproportionate development, as also do children born late in the lives of their parents. Children So situated are

peculiarly likely to be delicate and to suffer from some neurosis, which may later on in life culminate in constitutional "nervousness," mind-weakness, or even insanity. I do not say that the fish diet will cure all these cases, but I believe they will be, as a rule, largely benefited by its adoption.

This is a matter of popular interest, and I make no scruple to address nonmedical readers frankly on the subject. Special feeding may be a measure of treatment, but it is more truly a matter of natural prudence. The aim should be to prevent disease, and I conceive it to be a duty to give expression far and wide, and by every means in my power, to the strong faith I entertain that by rational modes of self-management and generally wise care for body and mind, bad health, both mental and physical, may be avoided. If this worried, brain working, and nerve-straining population could be induced to substitute fish for the flesh of warm-blooded animals in its ordinary diet, it would, I am convinced, be relieved from some of its worst sufferings and weaknesses, both mental and physical, and spared many mind and body destroying troubles.-Good Words.

THE old idea that principles ought to be as permanent in politics as in morals, has no place in the theory of government by the people which is now spreading about Europe. The new democracy pretends to work for progress alone, and evidently feels, at the bottom of its heart, that progress and principles are incompatible. Principles, in its eyes, present the inconvenience of not adapting themselves to circumstances; they are, by their essence, rigid and uncompromising; they have no elasticity, no opportunism. Yet, so long as they continue to nominally exist, they must be externally respected, and must be taken into account as guides and counsellors. Consequently, as they get into the way of radicalism, it has been found useful to deprive them of their character of invariability, and even, in many cases, to totally suppress them. It is true that

the democrats have not invented this notion of the non-durability of principles

Pascal asserted, before their time, that "natural principles are nothing but habits;" but the more advanced politicians of the Continent have got a long way beyond that, and evidently feel that, in politics, principles have not even the value of habits. Like the Californian farmer who said, "No fellow can go on always believing the same thing; one wants a fresh religion from time to time"-so do the leaders of the new school assure us that political principles must change according to the wishes of the populace. They apply to the men of our generation (without knowing it, perhaps), the theory of La Bruyère, that

most women have no principles; they simply follow their hearts.' They, too, follow their hearts, like women; they proclaim that the science of govern