hot-hardly a breath of air stirring. The sea, without a ripple, shone like a vast mirror in the sun. I had had a long day, and felt unwilling to encounter the trouble and fatigue of a journey to town. As I wandered along the cliff, the Old Ship Hotel looked inviting ; and a quiet meal in its comfortable coffee-room seemed far preferable to the hurry and bustle of returning home by the excursion-train. Much amusement and food for reflection as my agreeable fellowtravellers had afforded me, I thought some more substantial food, and a little enjoyment in the way of dinner, would be a pleasant change. The temptation was irresistible. I yielded, and at the sacrifice of my three-shilling return-ticket, remained that night in Brighton.

I did not regret my decision.

The dinner was good; the claret cup excellent. At sunset, which was glorious to behold, a light breeze from the south came over the sea, laden with the most refreshing fragrance. I sat on the pier watching the sun decline; breathing the delicious tepid air, and thinking of the various trifling events of the long day, which had brought with them many new experiences. It was late before I retired to rest. The calm, warm, summer night, made musical by the sighing of the tide upon the shore, had a soothing influence which seemed to render sleep unnecessary. I wandered about, and recollecting my friend the engraver, had some intention of following his example, and passing the night al fresco in the balmy atmosphere. But prudence prevailed, and I ended my Sunday out in the usual prosaic manner by going to bed.

If those who have read what is here written, have felt as I have felt while writing it on this cold December night, they will have experienced a psychological sensation similiar to that which the epicure feels in eating green peas and fresh strawberries at Christmas -a sensation which may not be appreciated by some, but which, nevertheless, is not to be despised. It may have done you good to shudder at the idea of sleeping in the parks, and you may make some effort to prevent the necessity of others doing so. You may have thought Sunday excursion trains more objectionable, especially in the third class, than they really are; and if any false impression in this respect has been removed from your mind, the short account will not have been written in vain. And, is it a foolish idea?—You may have been glad to recall summer doings and delights while sitting round the cozy fire, in which case you will not object to this Epicure's Christmas Story.

WALTER MAYNARD.

NOTES & INCIDENTS.

HE

REVEREND FATHER LA LOQUE, who died in an attic of the Quartier Grenelle, Paris, left a long array of corks inscribed with the names of false friends who had helped him to dissipate his fortune. The story is admirably told in "The Epicure's Year Book," from which we take our illustrated initial. By the way, we notice an important omission in "The Dinners of 1868." Some of our friends will remember a special gastronomic meeting to celebrateBut, no matter; we will write to "Fin-Bec."

WE have received two parcels of Christmas books. They include "Tinykin's Transformations," a charming fairy tale by Mark Lemon, who is peculiarly happy in this department of literature. The work is illustrated with "A Month in the Midlands,"

characteristic drawings by Mr. Green.

is another notable work; and there is "Pilgrim's Progress," illustrated by the late Mr. Bennett. The artist's heads of Bunyan's leading characters are wonderful studies. The phrenologist and physiognomist will find perpetual delight in them. "The Epicure's Year Book" is a quaint little volume, full of curious wayside facts and spicy thoughts. We should like to dine with Fin-Bec. He publishes bills of fare, which fairly make one's mouth water. "Pippins and Cheese" is not a work on dining, but akin somewhat to "Cakes and Ale," and " Wine and Walnuts." These works are from the press of Messrs. Bradbury, Evans, and Co. The second collection reaches us from Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, who offer many attractive works to children. "Old Merry's Annual," for example, is as showy as a cheap china ornament, and its contents fairly glitter with many of those delightful improbabilities which are always attractive in the nursery. "With the Tide," by Sydney Daryl, is an honest, manly book that boys may read with profit. It is not a mere " goody book," like "Busy Hands and Patient Hearts." The illustrations are not quite what they ought to be. Edwin Hodder will no doubt feel how inadequately the artist has striven to depict the startling incidents of his "Lost in Paris." Nevertheless, Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton's Christmas literature bears a wholesome moral mark, and that is something now-a-days.

"SEATS and Saddles-Bits and Bitting," is the title of a new work by Francis Dwyer, published by Messrs. Blackwood and Sons. It is dedicated to H.R.H. Prince Teck by its author, a Major of Hussars in the Austrian service. There may be a reading age and not a hearing age in Austria, but in Great Britain it is very different. Magazines, newspapers, and novels are almost the only commodities which find readers now-a-days; and if any one wishes to inoculate "the stable mind" with maxims on the above points, as well as "the prevention and cure of restiveness in horses," he must go to work with a very light hand. Our author has written a sound, useful book, but not in the form "to tell." People concerned with horses want to be told a plain thing in a plain but lively way. They do not want a number of diagrams in a treatise upon the curb, with arrows and levers to guide them; or to be informed that “in levers of the first order, the power and weight move in opposite directions in their rotation about the prop, &c." This is the system pursued here, and after a good deal more of the same sort we learn that "this is what we want for bitting." Writers in Encyclopædias might adopt this plan, but writers of every day books should avoid it. The chapter on restiveness does not seem so much open to this objection. It would have been a better book if the author had blended the science more artistically with practice. Still the foreign experience which it introduces will give it considerable interest for many readers, at home and abroad, and more especially for teachers in military and ordinary riding schools.

REFERRING us to a paper in the November number of The Gentleman's Magazine, "On Some Pleasant Books," Mr. J. A. Langford reminds us that, so far as Birmingham is concerned, he has told the story of that town from its newspaper records. In verification thereof, Mr. Langford favours us with "A Century of Birmingham Life," in two volumes. It is a most careful compilation of the history of Birmingham, as it is to be found in the pages of the Birmingham Gazette, from the first issue of that paper in 1741. As a contribution to general history, Mr. Langford's work may be consulted with profit by future historians; as a picture of the inner life, manners, customs, opinions, and progress of Birmingham, the work is unique. It may be especially interesting at the present time to note that, with the exception of that fatal period of our history when the nation was mad on the subject of the French Revolution, Birmingham has always been Liberal in politics. The town was especially zealous against Charles I., and the smiths gave their support to the Parliament in a very practical fashion: they made 15,000 swords for the service of the army. Mr. John Bright may find some capital pegs for declamatory allusions to the past of Birmingham, in this admirable work of one of his consti

tuents.

THERE is a story told of the Dewsbury election, which will bear repetition. The candidates were Messrs. Simon and Cossham. An old

woman enters a butcher's shop to purchase a sheep's head. "Is this a Simonite or a Cosshamite ?" she asks. The butcher was a friend of Mr. "Oh! then it won't do; we Simon. "A Simonite, to be sure," he says. are all Cosshamites where I live, and they'd kill me if I bought Simonite meat."—"I'll soon make it a Cosshamite, then," says the butcher. "Do, do," the old woman responds; whereupon the butcher, putting the head upon his block, opens it, removes the whole of the brains, and handing the head to his customer, says, "There, marm, there's a Cosshamite for you."

THE German schoolmasters have done a good thing in shortening the total hours of their pupils' studies. They have made morning sittings rather longer, and abolished afternoon lessons altogether. The result has been, we read, highly successful. That the full benefit of the curtailment may be reaped, we would suggest to those interested in education that the afternoons be spent by young pupils in learning that which at present they cannot appreciate, and are never taught—the use of knowledge. Set them to tasks that will make them feel the want of knowledge and its practical value. Send them into the merchant's counting-house, the engineer's office, the mechanic's shop, the actuary's bureau, the editor's room; let them go into the warehouse and the factory, the forge and the chemical works. Let them join, as far as their powers permit, in the operations they see performed; let them learn to feel that knowledge is power, and to recognise that there is a connection between learning and prosperity, between school-books and fame and fortune. Boys are eminently practical: Cui bono? is at the head of their catechism. Show them that anything they can do is of use, and they will enter upon it with a will, so long of course as it does not involve continued and irksome labour, for which they are unfitted. We have known a boy take up mensuration heart and soul from seeing and assisting at the taking out of "quantities" from a builder's plans. In any reformed system of education let practical work, such as we have indicated, take a part, and there will be fewer dunces in the schoolroom and fewer dolts in the world of arts and commerce.

IVORY billiard balls are expensive articles, because of the cost of the raw material; and they are liable to get out of shape from the drying off of their original moisture, and out of truth from want of homogeneity: one part may be of denser, heavier matter than another, and when this is the case, the centre of gravity of the ball does not coincide with its centre of figure, the effect being that the ball travels falsely, although its sphericity may be quite perfect. These defects have led to attempts at finding a substitute for ivory whereof to make them. Steel was lately suggested; and, provided the ball be made hollow, so as to be of proper weight, the metal would no doubt answer well. Just now another substance is being tried in America; this is vulcanised india-rubber, which can be made as hard as ivory, and stained to any colour. A ball turned from a solid block of