In reference to wines, and still more to cigars, and some other useless luxuries, the typical Englishman is a victim to a prevalent commercial superstition. He blindly assumes that price must necessarily represent quality, and therefore shuts his eyes and opens his mouth to swallow anything with complete satisfaction, provided that he pays a good price for it at a respectable establishment, _i.e._ one where only high-priced articles are sold. If any reader thinks I speak too strongly, let him ascertain the market price per lb. of the best Havanna tobacco leaves where they are grown, also the cost of twisting them into cigar shape (a skilful workwoman can make a thousand in a day), then add to the sum of these the cost of packing, carriage, and duty. He will be rather astonished at the result of this arithmetical problem. If these things were necessaries of life, or contributed in any degree or manner to human welfare, I should protest indignantly; but seeing what they are and what they do, I rather rejoice at the limitation of consumption effected by their fancy prices. FOOTNOTES: [19] In repeating these experiments I find that the best form of silk is that which the Coventry dyers technically call ‘boiled silk,’ _i.e._ raw silk boiled in potash to remove its resinous varnish. In this state the aniline dyes attach themselves to the fibre very readily and firmly. [20] The following is from _Knowledge_ of August 15, 1884. It is editorial, not mine, though I have heard these ‘Spirit Flavours’ spoken of by experts as ordinary merchandise. The Hungarian wine oil is one of them: ‘I have just obtained what is expressively known as “a wrinkle” from a wholesale price-list of a distiller which has fallen (no matter how) into my hands. That it was never intended to be seen by any mortal eyes outside of “the trade” goes without saying. In this highly instructive document I find, under the head of “Spirit Flavours,” “the attention of consumers in Australia and India” (we needn’t say anything about England) “is particularly called to these very useful and excellent flavours. One pound of either of these essences to fifty gallons of plain spirit” (let us suppose potato spirit) “will make immediately a fine brandy or old tom, &c., without the use of a still.—See _Lancet_ report.” This is followed by a list of prices of these “flavours,” and then follows a similar one of “Wine Aromas.” A cheerful look-out all this presents, upon my word! The confiding traveller calls at his inn for some old brandy, and they make it in the bar while he is waiting. He orders a pint of claret or port, and straightway he is served with some that has been two and a half minutes in bottle! After the perusal of this price-list, I have come to the conclusion that in the case of no articles of consumption whatever is the motto _Caveat emptor_ more needful to be attended to than in that of (so called) wines and spirits.’ CHAPTER XVII. THE VEGETARIAN QUESTION