The _foreign stock_, and the circumstances under which they arrive, must not be passed over. They are confined during four or five, or even six days, in the dark and stifling hold of the vessel, and it frequently occurs that in all this time there is scarcely any food given them (we are assured, on good authority, that there is often _none_) nor one drop of water. The condition in which they arrive may be conjectured. Besides the extensive preparations for the Monday’s market, which are made by the drovers and salesmen of the home stock during Sunday, the desecration of the “day of rest” is immensely increased by the supply of foreign stock, which arrives at the railway at the same time. Foreign vessels, (we are quoting from evidence before a Committee) bringing cattle, endeavour to arrive here on Sunday as early as possible, in order that the salesman may see the stock before the animals are brought into the market. There is also a very large supply of calves from Holland, which are all carted from Blackwall; and the confusion and uproar there, and at Brewer’s Quay on a Sunday morning, passes all belief. Great quantities of cattle are also sent on Sunday in order to avoid the expense of _lairage_, or standing-room. About two thousand men and boys are employed in this real Sunday desecration. Need we say, it is of the most shocking and cruel nature? _Here_ is something really worthy of the storm that is so much wasted on minor matters in this much-vexed question. CLASS OPINIONS. A FABLE. A Lamb strayed for the first time into the woods, and excited much discussion among other animals. In a mixed company, one day, when he became the subject of a friendly gossip, the goat praised him. “Pooh!” said the lion, “this is too absurd. The beast is a pretty beast enough, but did you hear him roar? I heard him roar, and, by the manes of my fathers, when he roars he does nothing but cry ba-a-a!” And the lion bleated his best in mockery, but bleated far from well. “Nay,” said the deer, “I do not think so badly of his voice. I liked him well enough until I saw him leap. He kicks with his hind legs in running, and, with all his skipping, gets over very little ground.” “It is a bad beast altogether,” said the tiger. “He cannot roar, he cannot run, he can do nothing—and what wonder? I killed a man yesterday, and, in politeness to the new comer, offered him a bit; upon which he had the impudence to look disgusted, and say, ‘No, sir, I eat nothing but grass.’” So the beasts criticised the Lamb, each in his own way; and yet it was a good Lamb, nevertheless. THE REGISTRAR-GENERAL ON “LIFE” IN LONDON.