Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 October 1874 — Page 8

A Spanish Bull-Fight.

A special correspondent of . the London Daily Tdegmph, writing from Sant&nder on the sd irist., says*" It is somewhat of a relief from the constant narration of rite civil war, with its dailv-in-creaslng barborities, to be able to divert one’s attention to a different subject. The great festival of Santiago, in honor of Spain’s warrior patron Saint James, is being celebrated throughout the whole country by religious oeremonies and bullfights. Santander had another attraction —a cattle show—but that exceedingly interesting exhibition deserved a better fate than to be deserted for the horrors of the bullring. There is no disguising the fact that the Corrida de Tores is the ae plus ultra of delight of every Spaniard of whatever station, age or sex. So popular was this that tbc lowest price for admission was raised to twenty-one reales (four shillings and sixpence), and even at that every place was disposed of on each of the two days of the spectacle, Saturday and Sunday. The amphitheater holds 10,000 people, and, like all other bullrings, is open to the sky. If it were otherwise the heat would be insupportable. Six bulls were put to death each day, but so many horses were sacrificed on Saturday that few were left for Sunday Hie espadas, picadores and baaderillos were far from perfect in the exercise of their profession —the main object of the picadores apparently being to thrust their sorry steeds on the horns of the bulls, instead of, by their own dexterity, swerving them from the impending danger. Each bull killed three, four or five horses on the first day. If I dared to portray a few of the repulsive features of the scene, it would lessen the surprise felt at the horrors of the war now raging. The boxes are filled with ladies, many of whom brought their children, possibly upon Spanish principles, to harden their feelings against what they may deem false sentimentality. The Alcalde, with his brother municipal officers, presided* To their credit they would not comply with the reiterated shouts of the gods (who were in their more proper sphere, the bottom instead of at the top of the house) for more horses. This was less to be wondered at after one more than usually disgusting spectacle of a horse which a bull tossed up and literally disemboweled oelore the eyes of all; the even-then staggered Jialf way across the arena before it fell dead. The bulls in their turn suffered from the bungling of espadas; one was to be seen rushing wildly about the arena with a sword buried up to its hilt in its carcass, and it was only when from mere weariness it fell down that it was stabbed between its horns by a member of the troupe, who stealthily approached it from behind and gave the coup de grace when all other means failed. The whole company, with hardly an exception, shawed such signs of timidity and inexperience that tne spectators expressed their opinions in a most forcible manner by liberal showers of bottles, sticks and other missiles nearest at hand, at each fresh specimen of awkwardness. At Madrid, Seville and other large cities, more experienced operators prevent the ‘"exhibition of such scenes as 1 witnessed at Santander; but until Spain's favorite amusement ceases to interest her children she can never take her place amongst civilised nations, who are taught to look upon cruelty to the brute creation as a crime. One of the first things which strikes an Englishman on entering the country js the want of consideration which is everywhere noticeable. Overlading is the least and most common of the cruelties practiced. One cam only now use the voice of reason, but that is of little avail unstrengthened by the hand of the law. It is fervently to be hoped that the Bociety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals will be able to induce the Government to permit it to extend its career of usefulness to this neglected people, and, by inducing them to be merciful to their beasts, to be merciful to their fellow-men.”

A Remarkable Balloon Voyage.

They who sail the air in balloons experience as great if not greater perils than they who go down to the sea in ships. The recent aerial voyage of M. Durouf and his wife was fraught with such appalling danger as to make it one of the most remarkable in the history of aeronautics. On the evening of the last day of August they left Calais. For 330 yards they sailed in a northerlv direction, but their course was suddenly changed to the northeast, and they stood out to sea. Beneath them plainly glimmered the beacons of both the English and French lighthouses. No vessel was seen upon the waves and the night was gathering fast. As his course indicated that he was making for England the imperiled aeronaut saw the necessity of economizing his ballast and passed the night in watching the extremity of his rope, seventy-seven yards long." Whenever it touched the water he threw out a small quantity of ballast, and, at daylight, all the remainder of the light ballast. For a time his situation was nearly similar to that of the ancient mariner, who was *• Alone, alone, all. all alone On a deep and boondle*? sea." After a time, being then a mile in midair, he sighted some small ci-aft, and rather than take the chances of being driven northward by an air current he decided to lower himself into the water, hoping that he might be picked up. A fishing smack seeing his maneuver endeavored to cross his path. Into the rough sea went the heavy ballast, and finally the valve was opened and the balloon descended until the ropes trailed in the water. But the under current of air swept the silken past the oaken vessel and the poor voyagers seemed lost. Still dauntless, monsieur cheered his wife and preserved his own coolness. To stop the speed of the balloon in order that a small boat which had pul off from the fishing smack might reach him he continued to spring the valve until the car filled with water. Tremendous waves dashed over the balloon and soon the boat was lost to sight. After a time, however, it was again seen making for the imperiled passengers with all the vigor which lusty brawn and willing heart could impart. Madame was so benumbed with cold that her husband was compelled to hold her in his arms lest she should be washed from the car into the raging sea. Nothing but hope in the oncoming boat saved his courage. Soon she reached the car and hook hold of the balloon rope but was in danger of swamping from the strong jerks of the air vessel. The poor, corpse-like wife was transferred with infinite trouble, her husband the while endeavoring to cat the ropes which held the inflated bag to the car. Presently he was dashed against the boat, luckily falling into it ; the balioon, relieved of the weight, bounded up and was borne off toward

Norway, while the brave navigators of the (sea* carried the rescued sailors of the air safe itfto Grimsby, England.

Long Battle Between Oxen.

Mr. Corydon Chadwick and Mr. Sullivan ,JJrskine have a pasture in common at South China, which they use for the pasturage of cattle. They have .the present season had several yoke as cattle m the pasture. Mr. ChadwioK Mr. Erskine have each an ox with a lopped or crooked horn, the right horn of one and the left of the other having that peculiar formation. These oxen were turned loose into the common pasture, and it was between them on that spot that the pitched battle of which we are to speak took place. For several days these cattle had been missing; when the other cattle came up these were not among the number. How many days they had been missing before search was instituted is not definitely known, but becoming alarmed the owners went in quest of them. Coming to an opening in the woods, covering an area of about -half an acre, Mr. Chadwick, who went in search, came upon a sickening spectacle. The lopped horns of the oxen were clasped, and the exhausted animals, united compactly, stood face to face, waiting for deatn, having apparently given up the struggle. It is supposed that while they were engaged in play their horns became entangled; failing to disconnect themselves, a terrible struggle of several days took place. The open space was literally torn up, as though it had been plowed with a sub-soil plow. When they were turned into the pasture they were large, fat, seven-feet oxen, but now they have become so emaciated and famished that a person could almost clasp them round with his arms. They were perfectly docile when found, but Mr. Chadwick could not untie the knot. The horn of each was sunk into the other’s head, and it was only by calling help and sawing the horns off that a separation could be effected. There were festering sores where the horns went in. Thus a mortal conflict, lasting eight days, had been going on between these oxen, who in that time had not partaken of any sustenance, and perhaps had not been able to lie down. Their jaws had to be pried open, and gruel admiaisteredto them. Their heads had been united so closely that their faces were bare to the bone. It is possible the animals may live. —Augusta (Me.) Journal.

A Slight Mistake.

Chubb’s clock got out of order one day about Christmas time, and began to strike wrong. That was the cause of the fearful excitement at his house one night. They were all in bed, sound asleep at midnight, when the clock suddenly struck five. The new hired girl, happening to wake just as it began, heard it and bounced out of bed, under the impression that morningliad come; and as it is dark at five a. m. just at that season as at midnight she did not perceive her mistake, but went down into the kitchen and began to get breakfast. While she was bustling about in a very lively manner Chubb happened to wake and he heard the noise. He opened his room door cautiously and crept softly to the head of the stairs to listen. He could distinctly hear some one moving about the kitchen and dining-room, and apparently packing up the china. Accordingly he went back to his room and woke Mrs. Chubb and gave her orders to spring the rattle out of the front window the moment she heard his gun go off. Then Chubb seized his fowling-piece, and, going down to the dining-room door, where he could hear the burglars at work, he cocked the gun, aimed it, pushed the door open with the muzzle and fired. Instantly Mrs. Chubb sprang the rattle and before Chubb could pick up the lacerated hired girl the door was burst open by two policemen, who came into the dining-room. Seeing Chubb with a gun and a bleeding woman on the floor they imagined that murder had been committed, and one of them trotted Chubb ofl to the station-house while the other remained to investigate things. Just then the dock struck six. An explanation ensued from the girl, who had only a few bird-shot in her leg, and the policeman left to bring Chubb home. He arrived at about three in the morning just as the clock was striking eight. When the situation was unfolded to him his first action was to jam the butt of his gun through the dock, whereupon it immediately struck two hundred and fortythree and Chubb pitched it over .the fence. He has a new clock now and things are working better.

Fall and Winter Styles for Men.

Double-breasted frock coats will be worn more than ever as a general semidress garment, cut rather short in proportion in the waist, and very long in the skirts, to button three or even four buttons; plain facings, and bound narrow or silk breast facings and flatbraided, for a smarter coat. Waistcoat single-breasted, with a t stop-collar, to button medium high, if of the same goods, or a doublebreasted white vest, showing above the turnover of the coat lappel. In London it is now quite the style- to wear, rough fancy checked cheviot trowsers with a frock coat but here a quiet, neat stripe, or small check will be preferred. In morning coats, the principal change is to have them button very high, with short collar and small lappel, worn three or four buttons buttoned, and moderately well cut away from the lower button. Flaps on the hips are not generally worn, if the garment be of the finer'goods. This coat is likely to be the exception here, and will only be worn by those who affect the extreme English style of dressing. For undress, business and traveling suits, checks, of which there is an infinite variety, in every shade and size, will be the prevailing style, and made up principally as reefing jackets or morning coats, with pockets, underflaps and vests with no collar to button high. Cheviots are very much worn in Europe, and will be very fashionable for entire suits or trousers. There is a decided inclination to depart from the “dressy” style of goods so long prevalent ’ here and before another season comes roun ’ we shall find our best men wearing this class of goods. They are now made in .very stylish patterns* and will improve every season with the increased demand. In overcoats the frock or surtout will be worn more than formerly, made to button four buttons, and very long in the skirts. All coats are made longer than last season. In trousers there is Little or no change. They are still cut easy and straight to the leg, rather loose from the thigh down, and with no spring as the bottoms. Bide pockets are preferred.—' JIT. Y. Paper. L. *

A Window Ghost.

What would be your sensations if you were to close your eyes in . sleep at night, with nothing unusual about the house, and open them in the morning to the ocular fact of a strange, ghostly face in your, window? You rub your eyes while you still lie in bed, and intently examine the features, which appear to be sternly bent upon you. They are quiet, ghostly and solemn. The glassed eyes do not blink. You are finally satisfied that it is no optical illusion, and your wonder increases. You begin to tremble a little, and your heart flutters, the premonitory symptoms of a scare. You get up and go to the window. The sunrise is glittering on the dripping trees. There has been a thunder-storm during the night, and-you remember some remarks it made at the time. The face is still there in the window, large as life and almost as natural, but it has no-correspond-ing body: It is just the picture of a face set in the glass or suspended in the air near the window. You cannot tell exactly which. You step outside and observe that the picture now appears to be back a few inches from the glass, inside the room. You also notice evidences of that end of your house having been played with by lightning. You are more mystified than ever. You return to the face. You examine the glass by passing your hand over it. It is not rifted or roughened. It is cold and smooth, yet it seems to be animated by a spirit. Y'ou cannot make it out ana resolve to wait and watch if anybody else sees it. You begin to be not quite sure that bolt of lightning during the night has not driven you out of the body. Maybe you are gazing at your own ghost in the window, trying to look you out of countenance and convince you that you were struck dead during the night. You feel very much alive, but want your senses corroborated. If that flash of lightning has thus photographed your face, or the face of anybody else, you want to know* it. The town is astir. You will soon have the proof. The pass-ers-by see you, and your friends speak to you. They also see the k ghostly face in the window. It is, therefore, a fact, with which you are entirely disconnected. The w onder has increased. If an illusion it is a delusion to all eyes. How did it come there to look in and out of that window with everlasting solemnity, like Poe’s Raven perching on the bust of Pallas just within the chamber door, to. roost there forever more? Sensations and thoughts like these were lately those of a citizen of Carrington, Mo. He has just such a ghost in his window, palpable to everybody’s sight, and it will not away! It came there as described above. There was a thunder-storm—a bolt of lightning; the face was seen in the window in the morning, and there seemed to be some mysterious connection between the lightning and the picture. At any rate that is the only shadow of a theory advanced to account for the marvelous appearance. The strange phenomona was noticed in the local papers, and thousands of people flocked to see the window ghost. They all saw it, too, and “still the wonder grew.” Some believed it to be a real ghost—others turned away and sneered; “a vain imagination;” but the fact is, all saw it, and anybody who feels an interest can see it for themselves. It is evidently connected with the window-glass itself, for when the whole section of sash is removed to another place the haunting face goes with it. The window’ therefore holds the secret, and the appearance is not caused by or subject to reflection. The owner of the house and the window and ghost, if it be one, has been offered various sums for the window, but he is unwilling to sell it. A letter written to us on the subject states that a man, representing a St. Louis firm, offered as high as SIOO for this strange specimen of photography for the purpose of exhibiting it in this city. That good round sum for a few panes of common window glass was no object to the owner.—St. Louis Republican.

Icelandic Attire.

A correspondent of the London Standard. who had been assisting at the late festivities in Iceland, saw several ladies dressed in the old Icelandic full dress. One of the ladies and her costume he describes as follows: She was some forty vears of age, tall and stately, and would have commanded attention in any assembly. The bright complexion and abundance of fair hair, as well as the general tone of the features, proclaimed her true Norse blood. Her dress, however, was what most caught my attention. She wore a closefitting bodice and sleeves, made of black woolen material with broad gold embroidery down the front and on the seams, fastened at the throat by a gold button, open after this about half-way down to the waist, so as to show a white chemisette, but with gold buttons on either side, so that it could be closed at will. Such a bodice as this is often laced up in front by a gold or silver chain, passed through a kind of ring on the edge of the buttons, but this lady wore it open. Round the waist was a belt formed of plates of gold linked together and hanging down in front nearly to the knees. Many of these belts in gold or silver are heirlooms and come down from generation to generation—perhaps relics of the time when people carried all their available wealth about with them, as Hindoo women and Shahs of Persia do nowadays. The skirt was of the same material with the bodice, and was perfectly plain, except for a narrowband of gold embroidered round the bottom, which was some two inches from the ground. No flounces or frills and, above all. no abominations in the way of crinoline or dress-improver disfigured the graceful costumes I am trying to describe. I know Ido it very badly, and I dare say the ladies will think I am a dunce, but the task is new and somewhat uncongenial. But the head-dress was the most peculiar part of the whole. I can only describe it as a flattened cornucopia turning over from the back toward the front. The cap was high, covered with white silk or linen, strained over a frame of cardboard, and built up with wadding. This construction I afterward inquired into, so it may be accepted as correct. Round the band of it glittered about a dozen of fold stars, and set in all round was a very eep net fall trimmed with lace. This fall was lifted up in front and turned back over the cap, while the back part of it fell almost to the waist, the whole giving much the effect of a bridal veil. The* hair was worn in several long and very broad plaits, which were turned up in loops, and their ends hidden under the cap. This is the usual Icelandic style of wearing the hair, and, of course, dispenses with all the adornment of frizzles -and false plaits which the belles of our more southern climes find indispensable.

Clumsiness inriiy description may, perhaps. impart am idea of clumsiness to the head-dress, but it is by no means clumsy. On the contrary it is very becoming, and displayed above bright and' (pretty faces, as I afterward saw it, adds a charm to what hardly requires improvement—the features of the better class of Icelandic girls.

Gathering and Storing Vegetables.

There is far less attention paid to the gathering and storing of vegetables than to their production, although these are quite as important. The great bulk of our root crops are designed for use in winter, and the more perfect their preservation the more healthful will they prove to man or beast. In the Northern States vegetables must be protected from frosts, and in warm climates from too much heat and moisture; consequently considerable care is required in both cases, the advantages and disadvantages in the various climates and localities being about equal. There are probably no f reater losses in the coldest localities rom frost than in the warmer, because where there is little danger from cold less care is given in protection, and a temperature a few degrees lower than usual frequently proves disastrous. The first and most valuable root crop gathered for winter is the potato, and in mild climates considerable care is re2uired to preserve this tuber in good conition until cool weather. If allowed to remain in the earth long after ripening there is danger of what is termed a second growth, especially if the weather should be moist and warm; therefore the safest plan is to dig as soon as it is fully ripe. But the digging should be done in dry weather, and the tubers allowed to remain spread upon the ground for two or three hours before picking them up. When this is done, assorting of the large from the small may be done in half the time required after they are put away in the cellar. We have seen many a farmer dig his entire crop of potatoes and dump all ipto a heap in the cellar, or bury them in the open field, without making any selection. Of course this necessitates a complete overhauling if the potatoes are to be sent to market, or if they are to be used at home, all of which is a needless waste of time. While scattered over the ground in the field the assorting may be done much better, and almost as rapidly as if all were put into the same basket. Then again, many make a great mistake in storing in large, deep bins, or burying in large heaps in the ground. To preserve the good qualities of potatoes they must be kept dry and cool, no matter how or where stored. If put in cellars, free ventilation without admitting light must be given, and as late in the fall as it will do without danger of freezing. In burying in the ground a vent-hole should be left at the top of the heap until severe weather approaches. Turnips and beets are still more difficult to keep in good condition through winter than potatoes; but with these a low temperature is of more importance than dryness, although the latter is desirable to a certain degree. These roots are, however, usually gathered so late in the season that there is less danger of injury from heat, unless a large quantity are put together; if this is done the center of the heap is pretty certain to be injured by heating, even when those on the outside are freezing. Turnips in particular are constantly giving off heat and moisture, and it is never safe to store them in large heaps or bins. Usually there is less danger of injury from frost than from heat, which will either cause them to decay or become soft and spongy. Carrots are not difficult to preserve but should be kept as cool as possible without actually freezing. They should be gathered and topped before the crowns have been frozen, and then dried sufficiently to cause all the dirt to fall off before storing. Parsnips are usually left in the ground through winter and dug in spring, as freezing does not appear to injure them; but if wanted for use during the winter the roots may be dug up in the fall and packed away in moss, leaves or any similar material, and then placed in a cool cellar or out-house where they will not get too dry. A portion of the crop may be dug in the fall and the remainder left in the ground. Parsnips that are left out to be frozen during winter are usually considered better than those dug in the fall. The frost appears to sweeten as well as to make them more tender. Celery is usually stored in trenches, the roots being carefully lifted with what little soil adheres to them, and then reset in a trench a foot in width and depth enough to permit of readily covering. The bunches should be set nearly upright and closely together, and as cold weather approaches covered orier with straw, leaves or some similar coarse litter that will keep out the frost. The leaf-stalks which are green when put into the trench will usually become well blanched by the time the celery is taken out for use in the winter. This method of storing is the one usually practiced by the market gardeners in this vicinity. As the cabbage is another vegetable which is not injured by freezing if allowed to thaw out slowly and in the dark, our market gardeners merely pull them up and set the heads in trenches made with a plow, then turn a furrow over them from each side, leaving the roots exposed. The heads are but slightly covered with earth, and consequently are frozen solid in cold weather. They are taken out during mild weather in winter, or on the approach of spring, and are usually in good condition for market. Further north a different plan would have to be adopted, especially if the cabbages are wanted for use during winter; but an ordinary cellar, warm enough to keep potatoes, is entirely unfit for cabbages, it being altogether too warm. A cheap pit made for the purpose would be preferable, because it could be kept cool without injuring other kinds. Every farmer should, however, have a root celar near, if not under, his bam, where turnips, carrots, beets and cabbages can be stored without endangering the health of his family by having them in the dwelling-house cellar, as is far too frequently the practice. Where a great variety of vegetables are kept together some must suffer, either from being too warm or too cold, and the only safe plan is to have two or more places lor storage. First in importance is the raising of a goodly supply of vegetables for the farm stock, and the next is to keep them until the time they are most needed, which is usually in the latter past "of winter and early spring. v , The season has already arrived for beginning the gathering of vegetables for winter use, and no time should now be lost in making the necessary preparations for preservation. —New York Sun. An attempt was made to burn the -Ne : braska State Insane Asylum, the other day, by a crazy woman.

Winter Bonnets at the Paris Milliners’.

I have just come, early in the season as it is, from inspecting a large number of winter bonnets, prepared for pattern hats for the ensuing season. The shapes will remain pretty much as they were last spring, though a mote decided attempt is to be made to revive* "the oldfashioned gypsy shape, so popular some seventeen years ago. For young girls and youthful matrons'a regular shepherdess hat in velvet, the brim turned up at the left sid* and confined with a bouquet of roses, will be the most graceful and becoming of innovations. I noticed most particularly this morning a rich emerald green velvet bonnet, the crown bordered with leaves formed of emerald steel beads, and the front filled in with a feather trimming dotted closely with emerald beads. A garnet velvet bonnet had the crown formed of two large pufls; right in front were placed three full-blown pink roses, while over the top of the crown, in the division between the two puffs, went a very full branch of heath. The same model was repeated, but with a natural ostrich feather trimming in place of the flowers. A lovely bonnet m chestnut-brown velvet and cafe-au-lait colored silk was trimmed very simply with three large, full-blown, ready-to-tumble-to-pieces roses in different shades of tea and crimson, placed just behind, over a bow of chestnutbrown ribbon, with long ends. A very elegant black velvet bonnet was trimmed with a broad ribbon, black gros grain on one side, and pale green satin oh the other; this ribbon was twisted, or rather laid in folds, around the crown, terminating behind in two short fringed ends, the black end being embroidered with a large leaf in jet. A single jet lily, without leaves, in front of the crown, and a wreath of green rosebuds just showing a tinge of red, which filled up the brim inside, completed this elegant bonnet. Wreaths and bandeaux inside the brim are to be worn. Some that I saw were of autumn leaves with sprigs of dead wood, others of large garden daisies- with centers of gold and steel beads. A bonnet of the new “ pochard” crimson was trimmed with pale-pink roses and the fashionable heath, and one of dark blue velvet of the gypsy shape was very simply trimmed with a dark blue cock’s-feather, and with a single spray of tea-roses inside the brim. Bows of ribbon, with very long ends falling behind, are almost universal adjuncts to the new styles of bonnets. —Lucy Hooper's Letter in Philadelphia Press.

Noses.

A medical correspondent sends an amusing letter on noses. He declares that a perfectly symmetrical face, with the nose in the exact mesial line, is a rare, if not an impossible, case—in fact, a monstrosity. He further says that the deviation from perfect symmetry is a beauty, not a defect, and constitutes one superiority of therirving countenance over the imitation by painting or sculpture, in which the slight natural departure from mathematical accuracy is not imitated. He then gives the anatomical explanation of the fact as follows: The nose as a feature depends entirely in its configuration on the arrangement of the bones and cartilages of which it is constructed. The structures here mentioned may superficially be distinctly felt at their point of junction, and it you carefully observe, when no injury has occurred, any deviation from the mesial line only takes place in the cartilaginous portion of the organ. Beyond what may thus be superficially felt, there occurs a bone called the vomer (from its likeness to a plowshare), which plays a very great part in determining the formation and contour of the nose. In truth it is the disposition of this bone which determines the question at issue. It has an attachment to the bones of the nose and face very similar to that of the rudder to a ship, and is so situated over a culcus or slit in the ethmoid bone of the internal nose as of necessity to seek at tacliment to one or other side of this slit. This bone, therefore, is, or ought to be, slightly on one side of the mesial line of the face, and forming, as it does, part of the septum which divides the nostrils, and at the same time forming a middle or central support and point of attachment to the nasal cartilage, it must of necessity carry the soft part of the nose to that side to which it inclines. It will thus appear that, in an anatomical point of view, the nose is abnormal which evenly occupies the middle line of the countenance, and that the organ which is more or less biased from the center is correct. In children this character is absent, or only very slightly apparent, as the vomer itself is but rudimentary and cartilaginous in its structure till the age of puberty is past. Nevertheless, an injury in youth, if unattended to, might and does lead to exaggeration in after years. I have not observed to which side, as a rule, in the majority of cases, the nose inclines. All I can vouch for is my own special case, where the bias is decidedly to the right. —Leisure Hour.

The Unconscious Action of the Brain.

It may be taken as one of the commonest mental experiences of most men, that a fact, and especially a name, which they endeavor to remember, which escapes from the determinate effort of recollection, often suddenly jumps, as it were, into the recollection without effort, after they have been thinking of other matters. Dr. Carpenter explains this by the theory that the part of the brain engaged in storing up and reproducing past impressions is not the same part of the brain which is engaged in the consciousness of those impressions, or in the consciousness of their reproduction; and that after the seat of consciousness has given up its futile labor the seat of memory unconsciously continues its activity, aud when it has unconsciously brought its work to a successful issue it communicates the result to the seat of consciousness; then, twd not before, the fact is consciously remembered. Upon this we must remark that the conscious effort to command the memory, without guide or clew, is generally and singularly unsuccessful in result. The only way to succeed in remembering some forgotten thing is to seek some clew, some thread of ideal association which may lead us to it. The direct, bald effort fails for the simple reason that the attention is fixed upon the effort, and not upon the idea sought. Withdraw the effort, and the attention fixes upon the idea. The memory of the thing was in the ,'orain, must have been there all, the time, or it could never again have been remembered. Memory is a latent power and always unconscious. Recollection is the mental activity which opens the cells of memory to the consciousness and recollection, therefore must always be conscious. That any portion of

brain-work is done unconsciously in th act of recollection is a theory to which we cannot subscribe without,far stronger evidence than any which we have yet seen adduced.— Dr. Bucknill, in Popular Science Monthly for October.

Mark Twain’s New Play.

A dramatization by Mark Twain of his latest work, “ The Gilded Age,” was produced in the Park Theater, New York, a few evenings ago. At the close of the performance Mark appeared in response to a call and spoke as follows: “ I thank you for the compliment of this call, and I will take Advantage of it to say that I have written this piece in such a way that the jury can bring in a verdict of guilty or not guilty, just as they happen to feel about it. I have done this for this reason: If a play carries its best lesson by teaching what ought to be done in such a case, but is not done in real life, then the righteous verdict of guilty should appear; but if the best lesson may be conveyed by holding up the mirror and showing what is done every day in such a case, but ought not to be aone, then the satirical verdict of not guilty should appear. I don’t know which is best, strict truth and satire or a nice moral lesson void of both. So I leave my jury free to decide. “I am killing only one man in this tragedy now, and that is bad, for nothing helps out a play like bloodshed. But in a few days I propose to introduce the small-pox into the last act. And if that don’t work I shall close with a general massacre. I threw all my strength into the character of Col. Sellers, hoping to make it a very strong tragedy part, and pathetic. I think this gentleman tries hard to play it right, and make it majestic and pathetic; but his face is against him. And his clothes! I don’t think anybody can make a tragedy effect in that kind of clothes. But I suppose he thinks they are impressive. He is from one of the Indian reservations. Oh! I can see that-he tries hard to make it solemn and awful and heroic, but, really, sometimes he almost makes me laugh. I meant that turnip dinner to be pathetic for how more forcibly could you represent poverty and misery and suffering than by such a dinner, and of course if anything would bring tears to people’s eyes that would; but this man eats those turnips as if they were the bread of life, and so of course the pathos is knocked clear out of the thing. But I think he will learn. He has an absorbing ambition to become a very great tragedian. “ I hope you will overlook the faults in this play, because I have never written a play before, and if I am treated right maybe I won’t offend again. I wanted to have some fine situations and spectacular effects in this piece, but I wasinterfered with. I wanted to have a volcano in a state of eruption, with fire and smoke and earthquakes, and a great tossing river of blood-red lava flowing down the mountain side, and have the hero of this piece come booming down that red-hot river in a cast-iron canoe; but the manager wouldn’t hear of it; he said there wasn’t any volcano in Missouri—as if I am responsible for Missouri’s poverty. And then he said that by the laws of nature the hero would burn up; his cast-iron canoe wouldn’t protect him. ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘put him in a patent fire-proof safe and let him slide —all the more thrilling—and paint on it, “ This safe is from Herring’s establishment,” same as you would on a piano, and you can pay the whole expense of the volcano just on the advertisement; but the manager objected, though he said heaps of pretty things— among others that I was an ass—and so I had to let the volcano go.”

Bathing Children.

Some mothers think, when their Children get beyond two or three years of age, the frequent entire bath can be dispensed with. If some of the main facts of physiology were well known and understood, every one would perceive that cleanliness of the skin is one of the conditions of good health. It happens when bathing is disregarded that the lungs, kidneys or bowels have more than their own apportionment of work. If these are strong and healthy, they may bear the tax with little apparent injury, but, in most cases, a lowering of the vitality and tone of the system ensues. , Large bath-tubs are pleasant and convenient, bat not indispensable to the proper cleansing of the skin. A speedy sponging of the body in pure water, rollowed by friction in pure air, is all that is necessary. When disinclined to use water, I find a thorough application of the flesh-brush to the whole person an admirable substitute; especially, on retiring it relieves nervousness, equalizes the circulation and induces quiet sleep. Mothers, above all, should see that their children are well bathed. If their skins are kept active and healtny there will not be half the danger from fever, colds and eruptive diseases. If your little one is cross or troublesome, and finds no occupation that pleases him, try the effect of a bath; sometimes it is magical, and, if tired, he will go to sleep and awaken bright, cheerful and happy. Do not though, as I have seen some parents do, plunge a child into cold water when he screams and shrinks from it, thinking you are doing a good deed. Nature must be the guide. If your child has a nervous constitution, a shock of this kind is only exhausting and injurious.— Agriculturist. "

Twenty Impolite Things.

T. Loud and boisterous laughing. 2. Reading when others are talking. 3. Reading aloud in company without being asked. 4. Talking when others are reading. 5. Spitting about the house, smoking or chewing. 6. Cutting finger-nails in company. 7. Leaving church before worship is closed. 8. Whispering or laughing in the house of God. “ , 9. Gazing rudely at strangers. 10. Leaving a stranger without a seat. 11. A want of respect and reverence for seniors. 12. Correcting older persons than yourself, especially parents. 13. Receiving a present without an expression of gratitude. 14. Making yourself hero of your own story. 15. Laughing at the mistakes of others. > 16. Joking others in company. 17. Commencing talking before others have finished speaking, i 18. Answering questions that have been put to others. *■ - 19. Commencing to eat as soon as you get to the table; and 20. Not listening to what one is saying in company. -