London to John C? Groat's. 273 



I visited the principal establishment for providing the 

 travelling and pic-nicking world with these very sub- 

 stantial and palatable portables. I went under the 

 impulse of that uneasy, suspicious curiosity to peer 

 into the forbidden mysteries of the kitchen which 

 generally brings no satisfaction when gratified, and 

 which often admonishes a man not only to eat what 

 is set before him without any questions for conscience 

 sake, but also for the sake of the more delicate and 

 exacting sensibilities of the stomach. I must confess 

 my first visit to this, the greatest, pork-pie factory in 

 the world savored a little of the anxiety to know the 

 worst, instead of the best, in regard to the solid 

 materials and lighter ingredients which entered into 

 the composition of these suspiciously cheap Iuxuri.es. 

 There were points also connected with the process of 

 their elaboration which had given me an undefinable 

 uneasiness in the refreshment rooms of a hundred 

 railway stations. I was determined to settle these 

 moot points once for all. So I entered the establish- 

 ment with an eye of as keen a speculation as an excise- 

 man's searching a building for illicit distillery, and I 

 came out of it a more charitable and contented man. 

 All was above-board, fair and clean. The meat was 

 fresh and good. The flour was fine and sweet; the 

 butter and lard would grace the neatest housewife's 



