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Examines the practise of using zero coupon first mortgage notes to raise more capital than is needed to fund a particular real estate limited partnership. Explains the mechanism, with advantages and drawbacks. Provides a worked example.

Divides investors into two types: tax‐paying investors and tax‐exempt pension funds. Tax‐paying investors will worry about the expected after‐tax variance of return on real estate, while tax‐exempt pension funds will worry about the expected pre‐tax variance of return. States this is an important observation because the after‐tax variance of return is apt to be significantly less than the pre‐tax variance of return (particularly during the early 1980s when tax‐paying investors were able to use real estate losses to offset other income). The model developed by the author suggests this reduced expected after‐tax variance of return helps explain the seemingly irrational construction that took place in US office markets during the 1980s.

In the North Hiding of Yorkshire a number of samples of lardine were examined during the second quarter. Four of these samples contained water to the extent of 24, 25, and 26 per cent. respectively. One case was taken into court, but the magistrates dismissed the information. They were of opinion that there being no statutory standard for lardine they could not fix the percentage of water that was permissible. An appeal was made to the High Court, and eventually the case was referred back to the magistrates to determine whether or not there was adulteration.

A pæan of joy and triumph which speaks for itself, and which is a very true indication of how the question of poisonous adulteration is viewed by certain sections of “the trade,” and by certain of the smaller and irresponsible trade organs, has appeared in print. It would seem that the thanks of “the trade” are due to the defendants in the case heard at the Liverpool Police Court for having obtained an official acknowledgment that the use of salicylic acid and of other preservatives, even in large amounts, in wines and suchlike articles, is not only allowable, but is really necessary for the proper keeping of the product. It must have been a charming change in the general proceedings at the Liverpool Court to listen to a “preservatives” case conducted before a magistrate who evidently realises that manufacturers, in these days, in order to make a “decent” profit, have to use the cheapest materials they can buy, and cannot afford to pick and choose; and that they have therefore “been compelled” to put preservatives into their articles so as to prevent their going bad. He was evidently not to be misled by the usual statement that such substances should not be used because they are injurious to health— as though that could be thought to have anything to do with the much more important fact that the public “really want” to have an article supplied to them which is cheap, and yet keeps well. Besides, many doctors and professors were brought forward to prove that they had never known a case of fatal poisoning due to the use of salicylic acid as a preservative. Unfortunately, it is only the big firms that can manage to bring forward such admirable and learned witnesses, and the smaller firms have to suffer persecution by faddists and others who attempt to obtain the public notice by pretending to be solicitous about the public health. Altogether the prosecution did not have a pleasant time, for the magistrate showed his appreciation of the evidence of one of the witnesses by humorously rallying him about his experiments with kittens, as though any‐one could presume to judge from experiments on brute beasts what would be the effect on human beings—the “lords of creation.” Everyone reading the evidence will be struck by the fact that the defendant stated that he had once tried to brew without preservatives, but with the only result that the entire lot “went bad.” All manufacturers of his own type will sympathise with him, since, of course, there is no practicable way of getting over this trouble except by the use of preservatives; although the above‐mentioned faddists are so unkind as to state that if everything is clean the article will keep. But this must surely be sheer theory, for it cannot be supposed that there can be any manufacturer of this class of article who would be foolish enough to think he could run his business at a profit, and yet go to all the expense of having the returned empties washed out before refilling, and of paying the heavy price asked for the best crude materials, when he has to compete with rival firms, who can use practically anything, and yet turn out an article equal in every way from a selling point of view, and one that will keep sufficiently, by the simple (and cheap) expedient of throwing theory on one side, and by pinning their faith to a preservative which has now received the approval of a magistrate. Manufacturers who use preservatives, whether they are makers of wines or are dairymen, and all similar tradesmen, should join together to protect their interests, for, as they must all admit, “the welfare of the trade” is the chief thing they have to consider, and any other interest must come second, if it is to come in at all. Now is the time for action, for the Commission appointed to inquire into the use of preservatives in foods has not yet given its decision, and there is still time for a properly‐conducted campaign, backed up by those “influential members of the trade” of whom we hear so much, and aided by such far‐reaching and brilliant magisterial decisions, to force these opinions prominently forward, in spite of the prejudice of the public; and to insure to the trades interested the unfettered use of preservatives,—which save “the trade” hundreds of thousands of pounds every year, by enabling the manufacturers to dispense with heavily‐priced apparatus, with extra workmen and with the use of expensive materials,—and which are urgently asked for by the public,—since we all prefer to have our foods drugged than to have them pure.

Some time ago, a writer in these columns entered a plea for a series of reprints of notable books which had been allowed to drop entirely out of print, and certain lists of such works were printed. So far nothing seems to have come of this useful suggestion, and no publisher has had the enterprise to experiment with a few issues on the lines laid down. Instead, every British publisher is engaged in the old, old game of reprinting edition after edition of the same old classics, and venturing no further than the limits of this or that hundred “best books.” The result is that we find publishers tumbling over each other in their eagerness to produce editions of the same hackneyed classics, each slightly different from its fellow in some trifle of price, shape, size, binding or editorial annotation. The book‐shops are filled with these rival reprints, and gradually, because of a craze for over‐daintiness, their stocks are beginning to look more and more like those of the stationers who deal largely in pocket‐books and diaries. Dainty little editions of Shakespeare, Scott, Dickens, Bunyan, and similar chestnuts, abound in every variety of limp leather and gilt‐edged prettiness, and all of them are warranted to survive about half‐a‐dozen readings before their dainty beauty fades, and they are ready for the waste‐paper basket. The leading idea of most of the publishers of these delicate editions seems to be that books are no longer intended to be kept on shelves, but should be carried about like watches or toothpicks. Waistcoat‐pocket dictionaries, fountain‐pen‐pocket editions of “Don Quixote,” and breeches‐pocket editions of the London Directory are all the rage, and people are urged to buy this or that dainty classic with binding designed by Blank, R.A., not because it is a good serviceable edition of a great literary classic, but because it forms such a pretty ornament for the pocket. The sixpenny reprint has been done to death, and now the shilling and two‐shilling net edition of the book possessed by everybody is beginning to go the same way. The literature of England is one of its chief treasures, and we are never weary of boasting of its power, extent, and variety. And our leading publishers, to prove the truth of the boast, keep on multiplying the same limited selection of books in the same way, while hundreds, equally good, are neglected. It never seems to occur to the diligent publishers who issue their trumpery little editions of Shakespeare, printed on thin paper, bound in limp leather, and edited to death by some learned scholar, whose notes smother the original text, that the masterpieces of some other author would come as an absolute novelty, and be hailed as a relief from the never‐ending stock classic. Public Libraries and students of literature are compelled to buy at a great comparative cost such of the older, out‐of‐print hooks as they may desire to possess, while in many cases they are unable to Vol. IV. No. 44, February, 1902.

The institution of food and cookery exhibitions and the dissemination of practical knowledge with respect to cookery by means of lectures and demonstrations are excellent things in their way. But while it is important that better and more scientific attention should be generally given to the preparation of food for the table, it must be admitted to be at least equally important to insure that the food before it comes into the hands of the expert cook shall be free from adulteration, and as far as possible from impurity,—that it should be, in fact, of the quality expected. Protection up to a certain point and in certain directions is afforded to the consumer by penal enactments, and hitherto the general public have been disposed to believe that those enactments are in their nature and in their application such as to guarantee a fairly general supply of articles of tolerable quality. The adulteration laws, however, while absolutely necessary for the purpose of holding many forms of fraud in check, and particularly for keeping them within certain bounds, cannot afford any guarantees of superior, or even of good, quality. Except in rare instances, even those who control the supply of articles of food to large public and private establishments fail to take steps to assure themselves that the nature and quality of the goods supplied to them are what they are represented to be. The sophisticator and adulterator are always with us. The temptations to undersell and to misrepresent seem to be so strong that firms and individuals from whom far better things might reasonably be expected fall away from the right path with deplorable facility, and seek to save themselves, should they by chance be brought to book, by forms of quibbling and wriggling which are in themselves sufficient to show the moral rottenness which can be brought about by an insatiable lust for gain. There is, unfortunately, cheating to be met with at every turn, and it behoves at least those who control the purchase and the cooking of food on the large scale to do what they can to insure the supply to them of articles which have not been tampered with, and which are in all respects of proper quality, both by insisting on being furnished with sufficiently authoritative guarantees by the vendors, and by themselves causing the application of reasonably frequent scientific checks upon the quality of the goods.

IN order to be able to discriminate with certainty between butter and such margarine as is sold in England, it is necessary to carry out two or three elaborate and delicate chemical processes. But there has always been a craving by the public for some simple method of determining the genuineness of butter by means of which the necessary trouble could be dispensed with. It has been suggested that such easy detection would be possible if all margarine bought and sold in England were to be manufactured with some distinctive colouring added—light‐blue, for instance—or were to contain a small amount of phenolphthalein, so that the addition of a drop of a solution of caustic potash to a suspected sample would cause it to become pink if it were margarine, while nothing would occur if it were genuine butter. These methods, which have been put forward seriously, will be found on consideration to be unnecessary, and, indeed, absurd.

The Corporation of the City of London are about to appoint a Public Analyst, and by advertisement have invited applications for the post. It is obviously desirable that the person appointed to this office should not only possess the usual professional qualifications, but that he should be a scientific man of high standing and of good repute, whose name would afford a guarantee of thoroughness and reliability in regard to the work entrusted to him, and whose opinion would carry weight and command respect. Far from being of a nature to attract a man of this stamp, the terms and conditions attaching to the office as set forth in the advertisement above referred to are such that no self‐respecting member of the analytical profession, and most certainly no leading member of it, could possibly accept them. It is simply pitiable that the Corporation of the City of London should offer terms, and make conditions in connection with them, which no scientific analyst could agree to without disgracing himself and degrading his profession. The offer of such terms, in fact, amounts to a gross insult to the whole body of members of that profession, and is excusable only—if excusable at all—on the score of utter ignorance as to the character of the work required to be done, and as to the nature of the qualifications and attainments of the scientific experts who are called upon to do it. In the analytical profession, as in every other profession, there are men who, under the pressure of necessity, are compelled to accept almost any remuneration that they can get, and several of these poorer, and therefore weaker, brethren will, of course, become candidates for the City appointment.

Before leaving the subject of the relations of the Public Analyst to the Medical Officer of Health it is desirable to refer to a matter which sometimes gives rise to difficulties and to disagreements between the two officers. Apparently by a legal oversight the duty of looking after the water supply of a district is allotted to the Medical Officer—but there is nothing to show in what way and to what extent he is to be personally occupied in carrying out this task. It also happens that water is specifically excluded from the scope of the Sale of Food and Drugs Acts, and, in view of these circumstances, some Medical Officers have adopted the idea that their duties are not to be limited to administrative work in this connection, but that it is also incumbent on them to make the necessary analyses; while in other, and perhaps more frequent instances the local autherities, particularly in country districts, deliberately place that burden on the shoulders of the Medical Officer when arranging the conditions of his appointment.