It was easy to guess who had chosen that
name. We determined not to re-open the
wound; and so began to talk of France.
What more fertile topic in such company?
Hours flew by; and it was dark before we
thought of moving. Scevola came in to say
that the soup was on the table; and they
compelled me to stop and take my share.
There was good Bordeaux; and we absolutely
drank healths—France, England, and the
progress of humanity. Spartacus even slipped
in with a piece of a cocoa-nut shell and insisted
on joining in the last toast. Fatimah
in vain objected, that Mansoor would be
angry next day if his disciple tasted wine.
M. Armoire could not resist the cry of "Vive
la République!"  pronounced in a theatrical
attitude by the horrid little black wretch,
who I now saw was a favourite and therefore
likely to be ruined. He tossed off his shell-ful
and wanted more; but Fatimah chased
him out of the room with a fly-flapper, and
the dinner ended cheerfully. When we rose
to depart, M. Armoire reminded us that we
had not seen the new improvements at Rhoda
—a hint to return which assuredly we did not
neglect. We found that our friend had only
a small portion under his care; but it was
elegantly planted. " You remind us of Coriolanus,"
said we to M. Armoire finding him
with tucked up sleeves trimming a tree. That
word completed the conquest of his heart.

THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.

THE Houses that Jack has taken to build
lately are extremely flimsy houses, very
much after the pattern of Adeliza Castle,
described in a recent page. They are built
of brickwork so thin, that they sometimes
tumble down about our ears. Or they
have so little material which can resist fire,
that they are always in danger of being
burned down. Or they are so wretchedly
drained as to give vent to offensive odours,
and thus invite dangerous diseases. Or they
have fire-places and chimneys so perverse,
that the smoke which is desired to ascend,
will persist in descending. Or—thanks to
the window-tax of past time—they have
windows so few and so small, and so inefficient,
that their inmates can hardly obtain a
breath of air without fighting for it. Or they
have so much lath and so little solid material,
that lumps of plaster are continually
tumbling down about their ears.

Jack is, however, let us not deny it, beginning
to build his houses a little better. He contrives
his model lodging-houses with comforts and
conveniences which are, as yet, denied to
those who pay five times as much model
rental. The model lodging-house in George
Street, for example, though mainly of brick
and wood, is not without those modern
improvements in material and arrangement
which call forth commendation. There
is a bath, supplied with hot and cold water;
there is a pantry-hatch, providing a secure and
well-ventilated safe for the food of each inmate;
there is a large coffee-room paved with red tiles
laid on brick arches; there is a stone staircase
with iron railing, rendering the building all
the more fire-proof; there is a ventilating shaft
at one end of every room, and also up the
staircase, which can be supplied with warm
air if necessary; there is gas carried up to
every room; there are washing-closets on
each floor, with slate linings and japanned
or enamelled iron basins; there are iron bed-steads
in the dormitories, very few of wood
having been admitted. Analogous in many
respects are the workmen's dwellings ("model
lodging-house" ought now to be abandoned,
and some other designation selected) in
Pancras Road, in Bagnigge Wells Road,
Spitalfields, St. Giles's, and in other parts
of town. Another and later example is the
building in the immediate vicinity of Messrs.
Goding's brewery, near Golden Square; the
first stone of which was laid in the spring. The
structure has a neat frontage, with stone
copings and three entrances; and the interior
has, or is to have when completed, all
those judicious arrangements to enable a
family to live in privacy, and to carry out
all the measures of family neatness, in complete
independence of the other dwellers
under the same roof.

A brave attempt is that now made at Birkenhead.
The workmen's dwellings erected by
the Dock Company almost shame the London
edifices. The whole group is divided into
six ranges by five parallel avenues; which
avenues are well drained, well paved, and
have handsome iron gates at each end. Each
avenue has, on one side, the front of one row
of houses, and the back of another row
on the opposite side; so that there are
front and back entrances to every house.
The back entrance has within it a stone
passage, with a stone staircase leading up to
the several stories. These stories, four in
number, comprise two sets of rooms each;
and each set, consisting of the apartments
requisite for a complete dwelling, has an
outer door (which practically constitutes a
street-door) opening upon the stone staircase.
Almost everything in and about the house is
made of brick, iron, and stone, wood being
sparingly employed. Even this woodwork is
so backed by less combustible materials, that
a destructive fire would seem to be impossible.
There is an immense advariage in
this matter alone, irrespective of all others;
for a fire-proof workman's dwelling is better
than an inflammable palace. Eight tenements,
or sets of rooms, thus form a house;
and each dwelling comprises a sitting-room
and two bed-rooms, with such a supply of all
necessary conveniences and comforts as will
enable any careful housewife to keep her house
clean and tidy. There is good drainage for
every dwelling, down to the basement; a
joint-stock, dust-shaft, and universal water