Well, then, to return to the purpose of this slender volume. If it even awakens a sense of ignorance in its readers, something will have been gained, for I am much mistaken in my knowledge of women of my own class and position in life, as well as of those in a higher rank, if, when once they feel the need of practical instruction and improvement in their domestic arrangements, the next step will not be to endeavour to acquire that knowledge. Also, I hope and believe that the artisan's young wife, who feels the commissariat and cooking a heavy burthen on her mind and her hands, will set to work to learn bow and why certain food-substances are more wholesome and therefore more economical than others, and in what fashion they should be cooked so as to make them go further and render them palatable.

Lower than this grade in our social scale it seems hard to go. It is too much to expect the crowds whose daily bread is a perpetual miracle, to have the time and the means to learn to cook better. When it is generally a matter of chance and locality what sort of food they can provide for themselves and their children, it seems a bitter mockery to tell them this, that, and the other is the most nourishing diet, or to recommend rump-steaks to them instead of bread and dripping. But here, those rich and benevolent people, whose comforts and luxuries have been and will be secured to themselves and their families for many a day, may possibly find another outlet for that spring of human sympathy and charity which - whatever pessimists may say to the contrary - runs bright and sparkling beneath our natures, and wells up to make many a green and blessed spot in our own lives and those of others.

Let us look for a moment at our country villages, and think how often it happens that the Squire's and the Rector's wife is asked to take some well-behaved cottage-girl and "learn" her to cook.

With the best will in world, what can these kind ladies do ? With a sigh they will consent, and return home to announce - probably with some trepidation - to their cook, that "a new girl" is coming. This means a year of misery and discomfort to everybody. The cook does not care about teaching the girl, and will most likely take but slender pains to do so. The girl feels that she is only on sufferance in the kitchen, and is in a false position there, besides. It will probably be very difficult, if not impossible, for her to get anything like a regular useful lesson from her aggrieved instructress. Everything that is broken in the kitchen is laid to her charge, and at the end of the year I question whether, even under the most favourable circumstances, such a girl can possibly have learned anything which will be of real practical value to her. As soon as ever she begins to have a dawning idea on the subject of a mutton-chop, she must go elsewhere and make room for another beginner. Now, the same money which would keep this girl for a year, would give her proper instruction in a proper place.

How constantly it happens that a young woman who is happily placed as housemaid or nursemaid, or apprenticed to a trade, loses her mother, and it becomes absolutely necessary that she should give up her situation and return home to fill, as best she may, her mother's vacant place. Such a girl has probably never cooked a meal for herself in her life. She may return home with an earnest and affectionate desire to do her best for her father's and brothers' comfort, but can she know by inspiration how to cook their meals ? Even in my own limited experience I have repeatedly heard laments on this score, and felt myself at the same time quite powerless to help beyond the vague suggestion that the beginner should ask Mrs. So-and-so to show her a little how to cook; Mrs. So-and-so knowing probably very little herself.

Many hundreds and thousands of people in London and our other cities and watering-places live, at all events for a certain portion of the year, in lodgings, or, as they are more elegantly styled, furnished apartments. Imagine a monster meeting of lodgers in the Albert Hall, assembled to proclaim their greatest grievance. Would there not be one universal roar of "The food"?

I have occasionally lived in lodgings myself, and I can speak from my own experience, feeling confident that it will represent the experience of a considerable portion of the houseless community. I found invariably civility, generally cleanliness (or at all events that is a remediable evil), and, with scarcely any exception, vile food. When I complained, the stereotyped answer, given in a very hopeless tone, used to be: "Well, ma'am, I know it's not exactly right, but it's the gal; you see, she don't know nothing; and I can't cook myself, not to say well." Now, why can't the "gal" cook, poor soul ? Has she ever been taught, or had even a chance of learning? Do we put ever so willing a man to fire an Armstrong gun or set up type without the slightest previous instruction on the subject ? Why should a "gal" be taken from her school life (this is imagining the most favourable conditions), and suddenly be expected to know how to cook, especially when her teacher is confessedly as ignorant as herself? The only bright exception to this rule is when a girl has had the rare good fortune to be trained in some charitable institution, where she has been properly taught to cook as well as to scrub and clean, and to keep herself neat and tidy, even whilst she is working. Yet, as I write the words "rare good fortune," a remorseful pang comes over me; for, however such training may benefit the poor child and her employers in after years, it has probably been necessary, in order for her to be admitted into such an institution, that she should have been a waif or stray, an orphan, or a poor deserted child, or exceptionally wretched in some way, and it is from her very homelessness and helplessness that what I find myself calling her" rare good fortune "has sprung.