The tragic death of M. Zola, which has occurred since I last wrote, appears to me to point an object lesson to those who love to shut up their sleeping apartments so closely as to avoid even the possibility. of a breath of fresh air; in this mater we in England have much to learn, but I think our French neighbours are even further in their infancy. I could not help feeling a little amused a few days ago when I made a remark, much to this effect, to a somewhat old-fashioned lady friend. She replied: " Yes, it's much the game 2s the morning bath; a few years ago no one thought that necessary but now no one will take a house unless it has
ning these things!" I conduced the had bathroom—the mischief lies in begin: 'a house to let, minus a bathroom, but suggested the possibility thet we were at last. ai to an elementary idea of the laws of hygiene, which remock fell upon barren ground. In reading the various biographical sketches of the life of Zola T could not help noticing how that one or more of the notices compared his work to that of our English Dickens. To mo it seems there could never be any comparison between two men so utterly different. It is true that in L'Assommoir Zola drew graphic pictures of the deadly evils which accrue from drink, but has anything followed to mitigate the evil? Dickens exposed abuses in both public and private institutions, with the result that they have to a great extent been remedied; we have but to look to our publio schools, our workhouses, and various industrial institutions to see the result of his labours. Can M. Zola's friends point a finger to any similar evils which have been redressed through his agency? I fear not. Ho was a clever writer, maybe a gonitis, but not a reformer.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.