regular thing, that is. There are to be bought now-a-days very handy little tin sandwich cases with sides which fold down when empty, and so occupy very little space. A good deal may be carried in one of these tins, and it can be stowed away when done with in a corner of the book bag, and the weight will scarcely be felt. Better still is one of the small luncheon baskets which are to be seen in every fancy shop, and which cost but a few pence. A basket three inches deep, three inches wide, and six inches in length, could be made to hide away a most diversified repast. A knife and fork, with a single plate could be slipped into a strap in the lid, and there would be room also for a tiny flask, whatever solid refreshment was decided on, and also one of those dainty delicacies which serve to give piquancy and attractiveness to a luncheon. There is no occasion to limit a meal of this sort to sandwiches. Sandwiches are excellent when well made, and they can be varied to any extent, but when indulged in day after day, and week after week, they become monotonous. If, however, sandwiches are to preserve their charm they ought not to appear more than once a week, and they ought not to be made of similar materials twice in two months. A sandwich is never so much appreciated as when it is a surprise, and it certainly lends itself to surprises more than any other preparation that can be named. There is no end to the ingredients, the combinations, the appetising morsels which can be introduced into a sandwich. Every sort of meat--tinned, potted, and preserved, roast, boiled, and stewed; every kind of fish, flesh, and fowl, can be used for it; while cheese, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, curries, and green stuff may be employed to lay between the thin slices of bread and butter which form its distinguishing feature. To make sandwiches good, all that is necessary is to bestow a little pains upon them. Let the bread be only one day old, the butter sweet and delicious, the meat cut up small, and the seasoning be judiciously and intelligently introduced, and there is practically no limit to the welcome changes of diet which may be presented under the general term--sandwiches. Beef sandwiches, ham sandwiches, veal and ham sandwiches, bacon, mutton, or game sandwiches, chicken sandwiches, sandwiches made of anchovy and hard boiled eggs, of curried rabbit and Parmesan, of curried shell-fish and Parmesan, of small salad, of sliced tomatoes, of mushrooms, of roast fowl, lettuce and filleted anchovies, of roast game, shred celery and Tartare sauce, of cooked fish, lettuce leaves and Tartare sauce, of cold meat and thinly sliced cucumber or gherkins, of roast game, tongue and aspic jelly, of the flesh of lobster and mayonnaise, of hard boiled eggs and a very thin sprinkle of finely shred tarragon, of potted hare, potted ham, or any potted meat, of cheese, of devilled ham, of cold asparagus, with a suspicion of