the auspices of the Vegetarian Society, gave a magnificent object lesson in the possibility of a dietary excluding fish, flesh, and fowl. The sixpenny dinners, as also the plain and "high" teas, were truly a marvel of excellence, daintiness, and economy, and the queue of the patient "waiters," sometimes 40 yards long, amply testified to their popularity.

One is glad also to see that "Health Foods" manufacturers are, one after another, putting into practice the principle that sound health-giving conditions are a prime essential in the production of what is pure and wholesome, and in removing from the grimy, congested city areas to the clean, fresh, vitalising atmosphere of the country, not only the consumers of these goods, but those who labour to produce them, derive real benefit.

The example of Messrs Mapleton in exchanging Manchester for Wardle, has been closely followed up by the International Health Association, who have removed from Birmingham to Watford, Herts.

J. O. M.

NEWPORT-ON-TAY, April 1909.

"Economy is not Having, but wisely spending." Ruskin.

"I for my part can affirm that those whom I have known to submit to this (the vegetarian) regimen have found its results to be restored or improved health, marked addition of strength, and the acquisition by the mind of a clearness, brightness, well-being, such as might follow the release from some secular, loathsome detestable dungeon…. All our justice, morality, and all our thoughts and feelings, derive from three or four primordial necessities, whereof the principal one is food. The least modification of one of these necessities would entail a marked change in our moral existence. Were the belief one day to become general that man could dispense with animal food, there would ensue not only a great economic revolution—for a bullock, to produce one pound of meat, consumes more than a hundred of provender—but a moral improvement as well."—Maurice Maeterlinck.

"Can anything be so elegant as to have few wants, and to serve them one's self, so to have somewhat left to give, instead of being always prompt to grab."—Emerson.

Foreword.

"Diet cures mair than physic."—Scotch Proverb.

"The first wealth is health."—Emerson.

"Of making books there is no end," and as this is no less true of cookery books than of those devoted to each and every other subject of human interest, one rather hesitates to add anything to the sum of domestic literature. But while every department of the culinary art has been elaborated ad nauseam, there is still considerable ignorance regarding some of the most elementary principles which underlie the food question, the relative values of food-stuffs, and the best methods of adapting these to the many and varied needs of the human frame. This is peculiarly evident in regard to a non-flesh diet. Of course one must not forget that there are not a few, even in this age, to whom the bare idea of contriving the daily dinner, without the aid of the time-honoured flesh-pots, would seem scarcely less impious than absurd, as if it threatened the very foundations of law and order. Still there is a large and ever increasing number whose watch word is progress and reform, who would be only too glad to be independent of the abattoir (I will not offend gentle ears with the coarse word slaughter-house), if they only knew how. In summertime, at least, when animal food petrifies so rapidly, many worried housekeepers, who have no prejudice against flesh-foods in general, would gladly welcome some acceptable substitute. The problem is how to achieve this, and it is with the view of helping to that solution that this book is written.

Now, as I said, while there is no lack of the stereotyped order of domestic literature, there seems to be a wide field over which to spread the knowledge of "Reform" dietary, and how to adapt it to the needs of different people, and varying conditions. And while protesting against all undue elaboration—for all true reform should simplify life rather than complicate it—we should do well to acquire the knowledge of how to prepare a repast to satisfy, if need be, the most exacting and fastidious.

Another need which I, as a Scotswoman, feel remains to be met, is a work to suit the tastes and ideals of Scottish people. Cosmopolitan as we now are, there are many to whom English ways are unfamiliar. Even the terms used are not always intelligible, as is found by a Scotswoman on going to live in England, and vice-versa. We could hardly expect that every London stoneware merchant would be able to suit the Scotch lass, who came in asking for a "muckle broon pig tae haud butter;" but even when English words are used, they may convey quite different ideas to Scottish and English minds. Indeed, several housewives have complained to me that all the vegetarian cookery books, so far as they can learn, are intended solely for English readers, so that we would hope to overcome this difficulty and yet suit English readers as well.

Before starting to the cookery book proper, I would point out some of the commonest errors into which would-be disciples of food reform so often fall, and which not unfrequently leads to their abandoning it altogether as a failure. Nothing is more common than to hear people say most emphatically that vegetarian diet is no good, for they "have tried it." We usually find upon enquiry, however, that the "fair trial" which they claim to have given, consisted of a haphazard and ill-advised course of meals, for a month, a week, or a few days intermittently, when a meat dinner was from some reason or other not available. One young lady whom I know, feels entitled to throw ridicule on the whole thing from the vantage-ground of one day's experience—nay, part of a day. It being very hot, she could not tackle roast beef at the early dinner, and resolved with grim heroism to be "vegetarian" for once. To avoid any very serious risks, however, she fortified herself as strongly as possible with the other unconsidered trifles—soup, sweets, curds and cream, strawberries, &c., but despite all her precautions, by tea-time the aching void became so alarming that the banished joint was recalled from exile, and being "so famished" she ate more than she would have done at dinner. Next day she was not feeling well, and now she and her friends are as unanimous in ascribing her indisposition to vegetarianism, as in declaring war to the knife—or with the knife against it evermore.

Now, there are certainly not many who would be so stupid or unreasonable as to denounce any course of action on the score of one spasmodic attempt, but there are not a few who are honestly desirous to follow out what they feel to be a better mode of living, who take it up in such a hasty, ill-advised way as to ensure failure. It is not enough merely to drop meat, and to conclude that as there is plenty food of some or any sort, all will be right, unless it has first been ascertained that it will contain the essential elements for a nourishing, well-balanced meal. It is not the quantity, however, which is so likely to be wrong as the proportions and combination of foods, for we may serve up abundance of good food, well cooked and perfectly appointed in every way, and yet fail to provide a satisfactory meal. I would seek to emphasise this fact, because it is so difficult to realise that we may consume a large amount of food, good in itself, and yet fail to benefit by it. If we suffer, we blame any departure from time-honoured orthodoxy, when, perhaps we ought to blame our wrong conception or working out of certain principles. It is never wise, therefore,