We cannot follow the writer into all the details of village institutions and village politics, which are sketched with excellent taste and great correctness. It will be quite worth while for the foreigner who wants to get a fair notion of what goes on here in the country—or indeed for the English reader who likes to see what he knows already put into a pleasant form, all the more amusing because the familiar terms look odd in French—to go with our French friend to the annual dinner of “_Le Club des Odd-Fellows_,” with its accompaniment “_de speechs, de hurrahs, et de toasts_”—without which, he observes, no English festival can take place; to accompany him in his “_Visite au Workhouse_,” subscribe with him to the “_Club de Charbon_,” or, better still, sit with him in the village Sunday-school, even if we cannot take the special interest which he did (for his own private reasons) in “_le classe de Miss Mary_.” Very pleasant is the picture—not overdrawn, though certainly taken in its most sunshiny aspect—of the charitable intercourse in a well-ordered country village between rich and poor. One form, indeed, there is of modern educational philanthropy which the writer notices, of the success of which we confess to have our doubts. The good ladies of Lynmere set up an “_Ecole managère_”—a school of domestic management, we suppose we may call it—where the village girls were to learn cooking and other good works. Now a school of cookery, admirable as it is in theory—the amount of ignorance on that subject throughout every county in England being blacker than ever was figured in educational maps—presents considerable difficulties in actual working. To learn to cook, it is necessary to have food upon which to practise. Final success, in that art as in others, can only be the result of a series of experimental failures. And here was the grand stumbling-block which presented itself, in the case of a cooking-school set up with the very best intentions, under distinguished patronage, in a country village within our own knowledge. Some half-dozen girls, who had left school and were candidates for domestic service, were caught and committed to the care and instruction of an experienced matron; not without some murmuring on the part of village mothers, who considered such apprenticeship a waste of time,—all girls, in their opinion, being born cooks. From this culinary college the neighbouring families were to be in course of time supplied with graduates. Great were the expectations formed by the managers, and by the credulous portion of the public. There were to be no more tough beef-steaks, no more grumbling masters and scolding mistresses, no more indigestion. But this admirable undertaking split upon a rock which its originators had not foreseen. It had been proposed that the village families should in turn send dishes to be operated upon by the pupils; but the English village mind is not given to experiments, culinary or