to cause no pain, an honest twenty or thirty
mile walk is more than the hampered foot-
machinery has power to sustain.

For this reason, says Dr. Meyer, it is wrong
to suppose: that because a shoe is easy it is
right, or that a cast of the foot, unless it be a
healthy one, would make the best last last for the
shoe it is to wear. Allowance should be made
for the gradual return of the great toe to its
place, by leaving its place (to some extent at
least) vacant for it, and permitting gentle
pressure where the joint has been forced into undue
projection. When the shoemaker now tells his
customer that he treads very much on one side
he in fact compliments him by the information
that he has a healthy and unsubjugated foot,
determined to tread straight. It is precisely
because children's feet are only in the first stage
of injury, and are more nearly as God made them
than as they are destined to be made by the
shoemakers, that children especially come into
trouble with the shoemakers, or with the parents
and guardians who believe rather in shoes than
in feet, for " treading on one side." A strong
and healthy foot tramples a foolish shoe out as
far as possible into the form it ought at first
to have had. Even the distorted foot, after the
shoemaker has done his worst, will often tread
over the leather of the inner side of the boot-
heel, because of a natural effort of the foot-heel
to bring itself into some approach to the right
line with the great toe.

In a properly-made shoe, then, the great toe
and the heel have their right relative places
furnished for them. And, since they are to be in a
line together, it must follow that if a well-made
pair of boots be placed side by side so that their
heels touch, their sides also will touch through
the whole space in front of the instep from the
place of the ball of the great toe to the very end
of it. They will diverge only at the rounded
ends, where the great toes round off into the
little toes, along whose line, and nowhere else,
any possible pointing of the shape of the boot
sole can be got. Apart from the general
necessities of a fit, the observation of the absence of
undue looseness or pressure, and of the high
heel that partly defeats nature's scheme in the
construction of the bony arch, and throws too
much of the work of support upon the toes,
there is no better rough test of the degree to
which a pair of boots has been adapted to a
pair of feet, than to place them with their inner
sides togetherand observe the cut of the soles.
The more they diverge from each other between
the place of greatest breadth and the end of
the toes, the worse they are; the more they tend
to be in contact along that line, the better they
are; and when they quite touch throughout that
line, they are what they ought to be. To secure
this, to secure also a sole of which the greatest
breadth corresponds truly with the greatest
breadth of the tread, and which, moreover, is
contrived to allow room enough for the play of
the foot in walking, including its lengthening or
shortening with the ranging curve of its arch,
is to secure what we ought to have, and what we
can get only by defying shoemakers' prejudices,
and compelling shoe makers whether they like  it
or not, to understand the true theory of their
trade. The English translation of Doctor
Meyer's essay (published by Edmonston and
Douglas), exact in detail, and clearly illustrated
by drawings, is enough to enable any man to
lay the law down clearly to his bootmaker.
It is sixpenny worth of knowledge that will,
we hope, be the ruin of a fashion that has put
thousands of people into actual torment of
pain, and denies to most of us tho full and free
use of our legs.

SKY PICTURES IN  SICILY.

1. THE COMET.

PALE phantom, on the blue October night,
Like a dropped plume from fallen angel's wing
Floating astray, a shunned, mysterious thing,
Alike unclaimed by darkness or by light;—
Old superstitions quicken at thy sight,
Of storm and earthquake,—of tyrannic King
Sudden struck mad,—of Death volcanoes fling
Down hills alive with Autumn's vintage bright.
To me a strange companion thou hast been
For many a lonely hour beside the sea,
Bringing back fire-lights when I used to lean,
A wondering child, against my father's knee,
Who told us tales of others like to thee,
Ghosts of the air, with fright by simple mortals seen.

II. DAY COLOURS.

The spirits of Palermo's thousand flowers
Give thousand colours to Palermo's sky;
Look up at sunrise—lo! pomegranate bowers.
And banks of blue forget-me-not hard by—
Evening doth warm 'mid orange fruitage die,
Above her tent the rose, with crimson showers,
Fringes the clouds: o'er yonder mountain towers
A rain of violets falleth from on high.
Yes, this was Enna's land; and here, I swear,
Was the famed grove of the Hesperides.
So bright the wreaths for Hours to choose and wear,
So teeming ripe the bounty of the trees;—
Colour and changing perfume fill the air,
Which faints not 'neath the freight, but laughs
like heart at ease.

III. THE MOON TAKES UP THE TALE.

Yet, with her soft and rich and mystic light,
The moon doth challenge this variety;
"Leave to the day its gaudy shows," saith she,
"Mine be the calmer holiness of Night.
After the feast, the prayer—after delight,
Thoughtful repose—after the rainbow sea
Heaving with glittering turbulence, for me
One changeless amethyst, as mirror bright.
Mine are the hours when Memory softly roves
(Hope would the mysteries of the sun explore),
When all the best aspirings, purest loves.
And sweetest friendships man enjoyed of yore,
Come back—when even the mournful dirge ' No
more!'
Like soothing distant chime, in mellowed cadence
moves."

IV. RAIN.

Hark! how the rain that ring upon the spears
Of the sharp reeds, makes answer—or with tone
Saddens the breeze, like the low streamy moan
Of captive Naiad, sobbing out her fears.
Saying, "Your shows are brighter for my tears;
Mine are the gems on yonder bow bestrown,