The last great work of that great philosopher and friend of the modern housewife, Monsieur Alexis Soyer, is remarkable for a curious omission. Although the author—a foreigner—has abundantly proved his extensive knowledge of the weakness of his adopted nation; yet there is one of our peculiarities which he has not probed. Had he left out all mention of cold punch in connexion with turtle; had his receipt for curry contained no cayenne; had he forgotten to send up tongs with asparagus, or to order a service of artichokes without napkins, he would have been thought forgetful; but when—with the unction of a gastronome, and the thoughtful skill of an artist—he marshals forth all the luxuries of the British breakfast-table, and forgets to mention its first necessity, he shows a sort of ignorance. We put it to his already extensive knowledge of English character, whether he thinks it possible for any English subject whose means bring him under the screw of the Income-tax, to break his fast without—a newspaper. The city clerk emerging through folding doors from bed to sitting-room, though thirsting for tea, and hungering for toast, darts upon that morning’s journal with an eagerness, and unfolds it with a satisfaction, which show that all his wants are gratified at once. Exactly at the same hour, his master, the M.P., crosses the hall of his mansion. As he enters the breakfast-parlour, he fixes his eye on the fender, where he knows his favourite damp sheet will be hung up to dry.—When the noble lord first rings his bell, does not his valet know that, however tardy the still-room-maid may be with the early coffee, he dares not appear before his lordship without the ‘Morning Post?’ Would the minister of state presume to commence the day in town till he has opened the ‘Times,’ or in the country till he has perused the ‘Globe?’ Could the oppressed farmer handle the massive spoon for his first sip out of his sèvres cup till he has read of ruin in the ‘Herald’ or ‘Standard?’ Might the juvenile Conservative open his lips to imbibe old English fare or to utter Young England opinions, till he has glanced over the ‘Chronicle?’ Can the financial reformer know breakfast-table happiness till he has digested the ‘Daily News,’ or skimmed the ‘Express?’ And how would it be possible for mine host to commence the day without keeping his customers waiting till he has perused the ‘Advertiser’ or the ‘Sun?’ In like manner the provinces cannot—once a week at least—satisfy their digestive organs till their local organ has satisfied their minds.