These tokens of Democracy's advance are not unpleasing; the growth of the restaurant tendency affords one particular pleasure, as suggesting that the English are losing some of their dominant insular fault of sullen individualism, and are becoming more healthily disposed to the communal life. Much less hopeful is the swelling grandeur of the London gin-palace--the modern substitute for the pleasant tavern. In mediæval times, if the earle saw a stately edifice with stained-glass windows, statuary, and everything gorgeous, he would enter with reverence to stoop his head; now, he goes in with fourpence to soak it. In mediæval times he would be seen crossing himself with the holy water as he emerged; now, as he comes out, he wipes it off on his coat tail. In mediæval times, for their sins and sorrows and the glory of God, the nobles built cathedrals. In this more vulgar age, for the people's griefs and the lords' profit, England's nobility build glorified pot-houses. In mediæval times, our chivalry won their knighthood and titles by spoiling the heathen at the sword's point; now, they secure peerages by spoiling English men and women with adulterated and brutalising liquors. This is what we call the progress of civilisation-- A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But that is neither here nor there. A TRUCE FROM BOOKS AND MEN Dreaming, dozing, Fallow, fallow, and reposing. DR. MACKAY. There is an old Dutch pier at Gorleston separating the open sea from the mouth of the river that leads to Yarmouth. It is not ornamental; it has no pavilion, no railings, no band, but only capstans, tarry ropes, a small white-washed observatory, and--the most surprising jumble of odd, cosy, sheltered nooks overhanging the blue water, where one may sprawl all day in any garb and any posture, and, soothed by the sea's lullaby, blink at the sun, or, with the aid of our country's literature, go to sleep. There is nothing to pay to go on, and our pier is therefore frequented by no objectionable persons. It is true there are a few mistaken damsels who sketch or paint the endless succession of spectacular marvels laid on by tide and clouds; but I think they mean no harm. As for the apathetic individuals who come with bits of string and worms, pretending to catch fish, everybody knows that they never do; indeed, after observing them through several waking intervals, I have come to the conclusion that their only object is to politely aid our slumbers by the sight of their languidly deliberate preparations, and calm, leisurely hours of uninterrupted waiting. As for the rest of us, we are frankly, honestly, disreputably lazy, and dowdily, drowsily sprawl and dawdle the daily clock-round.