Inebriate Homes and other reformatory institutions are not voluntary associations, but there can be no intercourse amongst their inmates that is not based on some experience common to them all. In the Inebriate Homes the common factor is inebriety. However much the inmates may differ in other respects, in this they are all alike: that they have indulged in drink to such an extent that the law has interfered to deal with them, and so the question that every newcomer has to face is, "Why are you here?" They are compelled to associate with one another, and they will get on the better together for each knowing something of the others' story. Scenes are recalled that had better be forgotten. Time spent in regretting the past while detailing its incident may result, and often does, in a repetition of the evils which are deplored. Better that the mind should dwell on something else than on the errors of time past. It is a common thing to see a man begin to tell a wild episode or experience of his earlier years, and to observe that beneath his expressions of criticism and regret there is a certain tone of satisfaction that he has been through it, and a lingering reminiscence of the enjoyment he has had in it. He condemns the folly, admits it was a mistake, and shows quite clearly that it was quite a pleasure at the time. Talking over the past brings it back and keeps the memory of it alive, and persistence in this course may cause that which has been regarded with disgust to become a thing that is desired, even a thing that is longed for. I remember a conversation with an inmate on the occasion of a visit I made to an Inebriate Home. I had known her as a habitual offender for years before her reformation was undertaken, and at this time she had been in the institution for more than a year. I congratulated her on the improvement in her appearance, and at the end of our talk she said, "It's a' quite true, I am better housed than I ever was. Ma meat is a' that a body could want, and I get it mair easily than I did ootside. The work's no o'er-hard, and the officials are kind. There are bits o' rows, of course, noo and then; whaur there are so many weemen you couldna expect onything else; but there's naething to complain of. The country's real bonny in the summer, but I get tired of the country. I am a toon bird like yoursel', doctor, and I weary for the streets." I suggested to her that since she was so well off and could be suited on the expiry of her term with a place where she would not have the same inducements to drink as she had had, she should make up her mind to keep away from the town; but she answered, "No; it's a' very nice and comfortable, but I wouldna gie a walk doon the Candleriggs for the haill o' it." Of course she ultimately had a walk down the Candleriggs, followed by a drive to prison; but it was quite apparent that this longing for her old haunts was the result of her