A wholesale dealer gives us the following items as to the consumption of eggs in London: When eggs are 16 for a shilling the sale amongst the working classes is enormous. When they are 12 a shilling it falls at once 40 per cent., and when only 8 it drops very low. The bulk of London eggs are imported; Italy supplies many, France many, and some even come from Turkey. They will travel from Trebizond and be perfectly fresh when they arrive in London. We are assured that most of the new-laid eggs consumed in Haslemere come from Italy, and this at all periods of the year. Our English housewives are not clever at preserving eggs, and the witty classification of eggs into new-laid eggs, fresh eggs, and eggs, is but too often illustrated. * * * * * ON OUTGROWTHS AND APPENDAGES. (_Part of a Museum Lecture._) Let us draw a clear distinction between “Appendages” and “Outgrowths.” The prickles which are formed on the branch of a rose are appendages; they may be detached without really breaking any part of the bush. The spines which grow on the blackthorn are outgrowths, and cannot be so detached. I wish that some better word than “appendages” could be found, for it seems almost to imply insignificance, and many of the appendages to plants are of the utmost importance. Still, it is true of them all that they may be removed and yet leave the plant, as a plant, complete, and many or most of them have only a transitory life, which does not by any means equal that of the plant itself. They are like the luncheon basket at the summer day’s ramble, not absolutely essential, but very conducive to perfection. Now most forms of leaf, flower, fruit and prickle are in this sense merely appendages. From the very earliest stages of their formation arrangements exist for their separation, in whole or part, from the plants on which they are produced. You will see that I am cautious in my terms, and say in part or in whole, for in truth some appendages never are detached as wholes, and very great variety exists in the ways in which they are dealt with. For the most part they are susceptible of death, and have their fixed duration of life quite independently of the plant which bears them. In many this independent death is the cause of their being cast off. In some instances, however, it is not death, nor even sickness, but the fulness of life and the attainment of adult age which causes them to leave the parental home. I hold in my hand an oak twig with two empty acorn cups. The acorns having attained maturity, have fallen out. Shall we say they have detached themselves, or that the tree has detached them? They have not fallen by mere weight, for they were doubtless nearly, if not quite, as heavy whilst still green, and they were then firmly fixed. You see at the bottom of the empty cup the large round scar which marks the site of former attachment. It is brown and dry. It was by changes which took place here that the acorn was loosened.