ly thrown to
right and left upon the foot-passengers upon the narrow pavements; the
garret windows opened and pails emptied upon the heads below; thieves
prowling about the dark streets at night, amid constant rioting and
drunkenness; the difficulties and discomforts of travelling, when the
carriages stuck fast in the quagmires; the travellers attacked by
highwaymen. He narrates how it took Prince George of Denmark, who
visited Petworth in wet weather, six hours to go nine miles. Compare
this to a journey in a first-class carriage or Pullman car upon the
Midland Railway, and think of the luxuries demanded by the traveller on
his journey if he is going to travel for more than two or three hours:
the dinner, the coffee, the cigar, the newspaper and magazine, etc., etc.

There is a passage in the beginning of _Tom Brown's School Days_ in which
the author ridicules the quantity of great coats, wrappers, and rugs
which a modern schoolboy takes with him, though he is going to travel
first class, with foot-warmers. Then, in our houses, what stoves and hot-
water pipes and baths do we not require! How many soaps and powders,
rough towels and soft towels! Sir Charles Napier, I think, said that all
an officer wanted to take with him on a campaign was a towel, a tooth-
brush, and a piece of yellow soap. The great excuse for the bath is that
if it is warm it is cleansing; if it is cold, it is invigorating; but
what shall we say to Turkish Baths? Surely there is more time wasted
than enough, and, unless as a medical cure, it may become an idle habit.
I have seen private Turkish Baths in private houses. What are we coming
to? We used to be proud of our ordinary wash-hand basins, and make fun
of the little saucers that we found provided for our ablutions upon the
Continent. At the time of the great Exhibition of 1851 _Punch_ had a
picture of two very grimy Frenchmen regarding with wonder an ordinary
English wash-stand. "_Comment appelle-t'on cette machine la_," says one;
to which the other replies, "_Je ne sais pas_, _mais c'est drole_." A
great advance has been made in the furniture of our houses. We fill our
rooms, especially our drawing-rooms or boudoirs, with endless arm-chairs
and sofas of various shapes--all designed to give repose to the limbs;
but I am sure they tend towards lazy habits, and very often interfere
with work. Surely there has lately risen a custom of overdoing the
embellishment and ornamentation of o