tration)--the pudding, I say, on my plate, the eggs
that made it, the fire that cooked it, the tablecloth on which it is
laid, and so forth--are each and all of these objects a knowledge of
which I may acquire--a knowledge of the cost and production of which I
might advantageously learn? To the man who DOES know these things, I say
the interest of life is prodigiously increased. The milkman becomes, a
study to him; the baker a being he curiously and tenderly examines. Go,
Lewes, and clap a hideous sea-anemone into a glass: I will put a cabman
under mine, and make a vivisection of a butcher. O Lares, Penates, and
gentle household gods, teach me to sympathize with all that comes within
my doors! Give me an interest in the butcher's book. Let me look forward
to the ensuing number of the grocer's account with eagerness. It seems
ungrateful to my kitchen-chimney not to know the cost of sweeping it;
and I trust that many a man who reads this, and muses on it, will feel,
like the writer, ashamed of himself, and hang down his head humbly.

* "Seaside Studies." By G. H. Lewes.

Now, if to this household game you could add a little money interest,
the amusement would be increased far beyond the mere money value, as a
game at cards for sixpence is better than a rubber for nothing. If you
can interest yourself about sixpence, all life is invested with a new
excitement. From sunrise to sleeping you can always be playing that
game--with butcher, baker, coal-merchant, cabman, omnibus man--nay,
diamond merchant and stockbroker. You can bargain for a guinea over
the price of a diamond necklace, or for a sixteenth per cent in a
transaction at the Stock Exchange. We all know men who have this
faculty who are not ungenerous with their money. They give it on great
occasions. They are more able to help than you and I who spend ours, and
say to poor Prodigal who comes to us out at elbow, "My dear fellow, I
should have been delighted: but I have already anticipated my quarter,
and am going to ask Screwby if he can do anything for me."

In this delightful, wholesome, ever-novel twopenny game, there is a
danger of excess, as there is in every other pastime or occupation of
life. If you grow too eager for your twopence, the acquisition or the
loss of it may affect your peace of mind, and peace of mind is better
than any amount of twopences. My friend, the old-clothes'-man, whose
agonies over the hat have led to this rambling disquisition,