The ARTICHOKE is a species of thistle; and the man who pays the usual high-toned restaurant prices for the pleasure of eating such insipid food, is an--never mind what. Boil the thing in salt and water, and dip the ends of the leaves in oil and vinegar, or Holland sauce, before eating. Then you will enjoy the really fine flavour of the--oil and vinegar, or Holland sauce. The so-called JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE is really a species of sunflower. Its tuber is not a universal favourite, though it possesses far from a coarse flavour. The plant has nothing whatever to do with Jerusalem, and never had. Put a tuber or two into your garden, and you will have Jerusalem artichokes as long as you live on those premises. For the vegetable will stay with you as long as the gout, or the rate-gatherer. Pheasants are particularly partial to this sort of crop. By far the best vegetable production of the gorgeous East is the _Brinjal_ 'Tis oval in shape, and about the size of a hen's egg, the surface being purple in colour. It is usually cut in twain and done "on the grating"; I have met something very like the _brinjal_ in Covent Garden; but can find no record of the vegetable's pedigree in any book. Although there are still many vegetarian restaurants in our large towns, the prejudice against animal food is, happily, dying out; and if ridicule could kill, we should not hear much more of the "cranks" who with delightful inconsistency, would spurn a collop of beef, and gorge themselves on milk, in every shape and form. If milk, butter, and cheese be not animal food I should like to know what is? And it is as reasonable to ask a man to sustain life on dried peas and mushrooms as to feed a tiger on cabbages. Once, and only once, has the writer attempted a _Vegetarian Banquet_. It was savoury enough; and possessed the additional merit of being cheap. Decidedly "filling at the price" was that meal. We--I had a messmate--commenced with (alleged) Scotch broth--which consisted principally of dried peas, pearl barley, and oatmeal--and a large slice of really excellent brown bread was served, to each, with this broth. Thereupon followed a savoury stew of onions and tomatoes, relieved by a "savoury pie," apparently made from potatoes, leeks, bread crumbs, butter, and "postponed" mushrooms. We had "gone straight" up to now, but both shied a bit at the maccaroni and grated cheese. We had two bottles of ginger beer apiece, with this dinner, which cost less than three shillings for the two, after the dapper little waitress had been feed. On leaving, we both agreed to visit that cleanly and well-ordered little house again, if only from motives of economy; but within half an hour that programme was changed. Like the old lady at the tea-drinking, I commenced to "swell wisibly"; and so did my companion.