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I COULD NEVER SEE A GOOD REASON
I could never find a gond reason.
Why sorrow et:Wilds', slinold stay.
And all the bright joys of life season,
13e driven unheeded away.
Our care would wake no mnre emotion.
Were we to our tot but resided,
Than pebbles flung into the ocean,
That leaves scarce a ripple behind.
The world has a spirit of beauty.
Which looks upon all for the best,
And whole it discharges Its duty.
To Providence leaves all the rest
That spirit's the brain of devotion,
Which Itchts its I tirnuch lire to its close,
And sets like the sun in the ocean,
More ht.:1*(111M far than it rose.
Franz Mukwood's Magazitte
TRAN CE-SLEEP.
The deepest grade of trance.sleep extinguishes
all the ordinary signs of animation. It !brills the
condition in which many are buried alive. It is the
so-called vampire stale in the vampire superstition.
The middle guide presents the appearance of
profound unconsciousness; but a gentle breathing
and the circulation are distinguishable. The body
is flexible, relaxed, perfectly impassive to ordinary
stimuli. The pupils of the eye are not contracted,
but yet are fixed. This stale is witnessed occa
sionally in hysteria, after violent fits of hysteric
excitement.
In the lightest degree of trance-sleep, the person
can sustain itself sitting; the pupils are 111 the
same state as above, or natural; the apparent un-
con siousness profound.
Two features characterise trance-sleep in all its
grades. One, en insensibility to all cotntrum slim.
ulunts, however violently applied; the other, an
inward flow of ideas, a dream or vision. llt is well
to provide all words with a precise meaning. The
word vision bad better be restricted to mean a
dream during the trance-sleep.
The behavior of Gr.milo, who had been buried
in the vampire state, when they were clumsily cut
ting his head off, makes no exceptions to the first
of the above positions. He bad just then emerged
out of his tranee.sleep, either through the lapse of
time, or from the admission of fresh uir, or what
not.
It. will not be doubted that the mind may have
visions in all the grades of tranec•skep, if it can
be proved capable of them in the deepest; there
fore, one example will sufflce for three cubes.
Henry Englcbrccht, as we learn in a pamphlet
published by himself in the 163 D, after a most as
cetic life, during which he had experienced senso
rial illusions, was thrown fora brief period into the
deepest form of trance•sleep, which event he thus
describes:—
In the year 1623, exhausted by intense mental
excitement of a religious kind, and by abstinence
from food, after hearing a sermon which strongly
affected him, he felt as if he could combat no more,
so he gave op and took to his bed. There he lay
a week without tasting anything but the bread and
wine of the sacrament. On the eighth day, he
thought he fell into a death-struggle ; death seemed
to invade him from below upwards; his body be
came frigid, his bands and feet insensible; his
tongue and lips incapable of motion: gradually his
sight failed him, but lie still heard the laments and
consultations of those around him. This gradual
demise lasted from midday till eleven at night,
when lie hoard the watchmen; then he lost con
sciousness of outward impressions. But an elabor
ate vision of immense detail began; the theme of
which was, that he was first carried down to hell,
and looked into the place of torment; from thence
quicker than an arrow, was he borne to paradise.
In these abodes of suffering and happiness, he saw
and heard and smelt things unspeakable. These
scenes, though in apprehension, were short in time,
for he came enough to himself, by twelve o'clock,
again to hear the watchmen. It took him another
twelve honrs to comeround entirely. His hearing
was first restored; then his sight, feeling, and
motion followed; as soon as be could move his
limbs, lie rose. He felt stronger than before the
trance.
Trance-walking presents a great variety of pha
aes; but it is sufficient fur a general outline of the
subject to make or specify but two grades—half - -
waiting and full waking.
In trance half-waking, the person rises, moves
About with facility, will converse even, but is al
most wholly occupied with a dream, which he may
Am said to act, and his perceptions and apprehen
sions arc with difficulty drawn to anything out of
the circle of that dream.
Somnambulism is a form of half:wskiug trance,
which usually comes on during the nigh', in ordi.
nary sleep. When it occurs in the day-time, the
attack of trance is still ordinarily preceded by II
abort period of common sleep.
The somnumbulist then, in a half waking trance,
is disposed to rise and move about. Sometimes his
object seems a mere excursion, and then it i s re .
marked that he shows a disposion to ascend heights.
So he climbs, perhaps, to the roof of the house, and
makes his way along it with agility and certain
ty: sometimes he is observed, where the tiles are
loose, to try if they are secure before he advances.
GRerally these re:apace porforwcd in safety. But
THE COLUMBIA SPY
occasionally a somnambulist has missed his footing,
fallen, and perished. His greatest danger is from
ill-judged attempts to wake and warn him of his
perilous situation. Luckily, it is not easy to wake
him. He then returns, goes to bed, sleeps, and the
neat morning has no recollection of what he has
done. In other cases, the somnambulist, on rising
from his bcd, betakes himself to his customary oc
cupations, either to some handiwork, or to compo
sition, or what not.
These three points are eisily verified respecting
his condition. He is in a dream, which lie, us it
were, acts - after his thoughts; occasionally he re.
members on the following day some of the incidents
°lac night before, as a part of the dream.
But his common sensibility- to ordinary impres
sion is suspended. He does trot feel; his eyes arc
either shut, or open and fixed; lie does not see; he
has no taste or smell; the loudest noise makes no
impression on him.
In the nicotinic, to accomplish the feats he per
forms, the most accurate perception of sensible
objects is required. Of what nature is that of
which he so marvelously evinces the possession?
You may adopt the simple hypothesis—that the
mind, being disengaged from its ordinary relation
to the senses, does without them, and perceives
things directly. Or you may suppose, if you prefer
it, that the mind still employs sensation, using only
impressions that in ordinary waking are not con•
sciuusly attended to, for its mare wonderful feats;
and otherwise common sensation, which, however
generally suspended, may be awakened by the
dreaming attention to its objects.
The following case ofsoninninbulism,in which the
seizure supervened, in a girl affected with St. Vitus'
dance, and combined itself with that disorder, is
given by Lard Munboddo :
The patient, about sixteen years of age, used to
be commonly taken in the morning a few hours
after rising. The approach of the seizure was an•
nounced by a sense of weight in the head, r. drow
siness,
which quickly terminated in sleep, while her
eyes were fast shut. Shc described a feeling be
g:nning in the feet, creeping like a gradual chill
higher and higher, till it reached the heart, when
consciousness or recollection left her. Ming in this
stale, she sprang from her seat about the room,
over tables and chairs, with t h e astonishing agility
belonging to St. Vitus' dance. Then, if she suc
ceeded in getting out of the house, she ran at a pace
with which her elder brother could hardly keep up,
to a particular spot in the neighborhood; taking the
directest but the roughest path. If she could not
manage otherwise, she got over the garden-wall
with surprising rapidity and precison of movement.
Her eyes were all the time fast closed. The in]•
pulse to visit this spot she was often conscious of
during the approach of the paroxysm, and after
wards, she sometimes thought she had dreamed rd
going thither. Towards the termination of her
indisposition, she dreamed that the water of a neigh
boring spring would do her gond, and she drank
much of it. One time, they tried to cheat her by
by giving her water from another spritrg, but she
immediately detected the difference. Towards the
end, she foretold that Inc she would have three par
oxysms more and then be well—and so it proved.
The following case is from a communica lion by
M. l'igatti, published in the July number of the
Journal Encyclopedique of the year 1762. The
subject was a servant u( tire name of Ncgretti, in
the household attic Marquis Sale.
In the evening, Negrette would scat himself in
a chair in tire ante-room, when he commonly fell
asleep, and would sleep quietly for a quarter of an
hour. He then righted himself in his chair, so as
to sit up. [This was the moment of transition
from ordinary sleep into trance.] Then he sat
some time without motion, as if he saw something.
Then lie rose and walked alarm the room. On
one occasion, he drew out his snuff•box and would
have taken a pinch, but there was little in it;
whereupon he walked up to an empty chair, and
addressing by name a cavalier whom he supposed
to be sitting in it, asked hint for u pinch. One of
those who were watching the scene, here held
towards him an open box, from which he took snuff.
Afterwards he fell into the posture of a person who
listens; he seemed to think that he heard an order,
and thereupon hastened with n wax candle in his
hand, to n spot where n light usually stood. As
soon us be imagined he had lit the candle, he walk
ed with it in a proper manner, through the sane,
down the steps, turning and waiting from time to
time, as if he had been lighting some one down.
Arrived at the door, he placed himself sideways, so
as to let the imaginary persons pass, and Inc bowed
as he let thorn out.
He then extinguished the light, returned up
stairs, and sat himself down again in his place, to
play the same farce over again once or twice the
same evening. When in this condition, lie would
lay the tablecloth, place the chairs, which he some.
times brought from a distant room, and opening
and shutting the doors as he went, with exactness ;
would take decanters from the beau/let, fill them
with water at the spring, put them on a waiter, and
so on. All the objects that were concerned in those
operations, he distinguished where they were be
fore him with the same precision and certainty as
if he had been in the full use of his senses. Other.
wise he seemed to observe nothing—so, on one ocs
elision, passing a table, lie upset a Waiter with two
decanters upon it, which fell and broke, without
exciting his attention. The dominant idea bad
entire possession of him. He would prepare a
salad with correctness, and sit down and cat it.—
Then if they changed it, the trick passed without
his notice, Jo this manner he would go on eating
cabbage, or even pieces of eaLes, seemingly with
out observing the difference. The taste he enjoyed
was imaginary; the sense was shut, On another
occasion, when lie asked tor wine, they give him
water, which he drank for wine, and remarked
that his stomach felt better fur it. 02 a fellow
AND LANCASTER AND YORK COUNTY RECORD.
COLUMBIA, PA. SATURDAY, AUGUST 21, 1847.
servant touching his !egg with a stick, the idta
arose in his mind that it was a dog, and he scolded
to drive it away; but the servant continued the
game. Negretti took a whip to beat the dog.—
The servant drew off; when Negretti began whist.
ling and coaxing to get the dog near him, sn they
threw a muff against his legs, which he belabored
soundly.
M. Pigatti watched these proceedings with great
attention, and convinced himself by many trials
That Negretti did not use his senses. The suspen.
sion of taste was shown by his not distinguishing
between salad and cakes. He did not hear the
loudest sound, when it lay nut of the circle of his
dreaming ideas. If a light was held close to his
eyes, near enough to singe his eyebrows, he did
not appear to be aware of it. He seemed to feel
nothing when they inserted a feather into his nos.
trils. The ordinary sensibility of his organs seem.
ed withdrawn.
Altogether, the most interesting case of som.
namblulism on record, is that of a young ecelesi.
astir, the narrative of which, from the immediate
communication of un Archbishop of Bordeaux, is
given under the head of somnambulism in the
French Fainyelopredia.
This young ecclesiastic, when the archbisop was
at the same seminary, used to rise every night, and
write out either sermons or music. To study his
condition, the archbishop betook himself several
nights consecutively to the chamber of the young
man, where he made the following, observation.
The young man used to rise, to take paper, and
write. Before he wrote music be would take a
stick and rule the lines with it. He wrote the
notes, together with the words corresponding with
thorn, with pefect correctness. Or when lac had
written the words too wide, he altered them. The
notes that were to be black, he filled in alter he
had written the whole. After completing a ser
mon, he read it aloud from boginning to end. If
any passage displeased him, lie erased it, and wrote
the amended passage correctly over the other; on
one occasion, he had to substitute the word "adore.
life" for "divirt;" but he did not omit to niter the
proceeding "ce" into "cet," by adding the letter
t," with exact precision to the word first written.
'ro ascertain whether he used his eyes, the arch
bishop interposed a sheet of pasteboard between
the writing and his Ism He took not the least
notice, but went on writing as before. The limits.
thin of his preeeption to what he was thinking
about, was very carious. A bit of aniseed cake,
that he lied sought for, he cat approvingly; but
when, on another occasion, a piece of the same
cake was put in his mouth, he spit it out without
observation. The following instance of the depen
dence of his preeeptions upon, or rather their
subordination to, his preconceived ideas, is truly
wonderful. It is to he observed, that lie rdways
knew when his pen had ink in it. Likewise, if
they adroitly changed his papers, when tie ems
writing, lie knew it, if the sheet substituted was
of a different size front the former. But if the
fresh sheet of paper which was substituted for that
written on, was exactly of the same size with the
former, lie appeared not aware of the change.—
And he would continue to read off his composition
trout the blank sheet of paper, as fluently as when
the manuscript itself lay before him ; nay, more,
he would continue his corrections, and introduce
the amended passage, writing it upon exactly the
place on the blank sheet, which it would have oc
cupied on the writing page.
The form of trance which has been thus (item.
plified may be thereflire well called half-walking,
inasmuch as the performer, whatever his powers of
reception may be in respect to the object l i e i s
thinking of, is nevertheless lost in a dream, and
blind and deaf to everything without its scope.
The following case moy serve as a suitable
transition of instances of full.walking in trance.—
The subject of it altern.ited evidently between that
state and half-waking. Or she could be at once
roused from the latter into the former by the coo.
versation of her friends. The case is recorded in
the Actit Vratisl. aun. 1722, Feb. class iv., art. 2.
A girl seventeen years of age was used to fall
into a kind of sleep in the, afternoon, in which it
cons supposed, from her expression of counteniince
and her gestures, that she was engaged in dreams
which interested her. Then, if those present ad.
dressed remarks to her, she replied very sensibly;
but then fell back into her dream discourse, which
turned principally upon religious arid moral topics,
and directed to warn her friends how a female
should live, Christianity, well governed, and so as
incur no reproach. I'Vlien she sang, which often
happened, she heard herself accompanied py an
imaginary violin or piano, and would take up and
continue the uecompanimert upon an instrument
herself. She sewed, did knitting and the like.—
But on the other hand, she imagined on one occa.
sion that she wrote a letter upon a napkin, which
she folded with the intention of sending it to the
post. Upon walking, she had not the least recol
lection of' her dreams, or of what slm had been
doing. After a few month she recovered.
I come now to the exemplification of full-walk
ing in trance, as it is very perfectly manifested in
the cases which have been termed double conscious.
neap. These arc in their principle very simple;
but it is not easy in few words to convey a distinct
idea of the condition of the patient. The case con
sists of a series of fits of trance, in which the step
from ordinary waking to full-waking is sudden and
immediate, or nearly so, and either was so
ly, or Virotigh use has !venni° so. Generally fur
days togettre.s, the patient continues iu the state of
trance; then suddenly reverts to that of ordinary
w rising. In the perfectiest instances of donb'e
c.nseinusness. there is nothing in the bearing or
behaviour of the entranced per-on which, would
lead a stranger to suppose her (ler it is an affection
fir commoner in young women that in boys or mon)
to be other than ordinarily awake. But her
friends observe that she does everything with more
spirit, and better—sings better, plays better, has
more readiness, moves even more gracefully, than
in her natural state. She has an innocent boldness
and disregard of conventionalisms, which imparts
a peculiar charm to her behaviour.
In the meantime, she has two complete exis.
fences separate and apart, which alternate but
never mingle. On the day of her first fit, her life
splits into a double series of thoughts and recollec
tions. She remembers in her ordinary state nothing
of her trance existence. Jr. her trances, she re
members nothing of the intervening hours of ordi
nary waking. Her recollection of what she had
experienced or learned before the fit began, IS
singularly capricious, differing extraordinarily in
its extent in different cases. In general, - the posi
tive recollection of prior events is annulled ; but her
prior affections and habits either remain, and with
her general acquirements, they are quickly by asso
ciation rekindled or brought into the circle of her
trance ideas. Generally she names all her friends
anew, often her tone of voice is a little altered;
sometimes she introduces with particular combina
tions of letters some old inflection, which she main- I
tains vigorously and cannot unlearn.
Keeping before him this conception, the reader
will comprehend the following sketch of a case of
double consciousness, communicated by Dr. George
Barlow. To one reading them without preparation,
the details, which arc very graphic and instructive,
would appear mere confusion:—
" This young lady has two states or existence.
During the tune that the fit is on her, which varies
from a few hours to three days, she is occasionally
merry and in spirits; occasionally she appears in
pain and rolls about in uneasiness; but in general
she seems so much herself, that a stranger entering
the room would not remark anything extraordinary;
she amuses herself with reading or working, some
times plays on the piano, and better than at other
times, knows every body, and converses rationally,
and makes very accurate observations on what she
has seen or read. The fat leaves her suddenly, and
she then forgets everything that has passed during
it, and imagines that she has been asleep, and
sometimes that she has dreamed of any circum
stance that bas made a vivid impression upon her.
During one of these fits she was reading Miss
Edgeworth's tales, and had in the morning been
reading, a part of one of them to her !nether, when
she went for a few minutes to the window, anti
suddenly exclaimed—' Mamma, I ant quite well,
my headache is gone.' Returning to the table, she
took up the open volume, which she had been read.
ing five minutes before, and said, What book is
this?' she turned over the leaves, looked at the
frontispiece, and replaced it on the table. Seven or
eight hours afterwards, when the fit returned, she
asked for the book, went un at the tery paragraph
where she had !eft off, and remembered every cir
cumstance of the narrative. And en it always is;
as she re ads one set of books during one state, and
another during the other. She scents to be con
scious of her state; for she said one day, ' Mamma,
ibis is a novel, but I may safely read it; it will not
hurt my murals, for when I am well I shall not
rcmembei a word of it:
This state of double consciousness forms the
basis of the physical phenomena observed in the
extraordinary eases which have been occasionally
described omit r the general name of catalepsy.—
The accounts of the *nest i n teresting of these that
have met with were given by M. Petatin, in 1767;
M. Delpet, PSO7 ; Dr. Despine, J62J. The wonder
ful powers of perception evinced by the patients
when in this state of trance-nthing, would exceed
belief, but for the respectable mimes of the observers,
and the internal evidence of good faith and accu
racy in the narratives themselves. The patients
did not see with their eyes nor hear with their cars.
But they heard at the pit of their stomach, and per
ceived the approach of persons when at some dis.
tance from their residence, and read the thoughts
of those around.
I am, my dear Arche, no wonder monger; so 1
am not tempted to make a parade to you of there
extraordinary phenomena. Nor in truth do they
interest um further than as thcy occur with the
numerous other facts I have brought forward to
show and positively prove, that under some condi
tions the mind enters into new relations, spiritual
and material. 1 will, however, in conclusion, give
the outline of a case of the sort which occurred a
few years ago in England, and the details of which
were communicated to Inc by the late Mr. Bolted.
He bad himself repeatedly seen the patient, and
!tad scrupulously verified what I now relate to
you :
The patient was towards twenty years of age.—
Tier condition was the state of double conscious
ness, thus aggravated, that when she was not in the
trance she suffered from spasmodic contraction of
the limbs. In her alternate state of tranee.waking
she was composed and apparently well; but the
expre , sion of her countenance was slightly altered,
and there was some peculiarity in the mode of her
speaking. She would mispronounce certain letters,
or intrraince consonants into words upon a regular
system; and to each of her friends she had given a
new name, which she only employed in her trance.
As usual, she knew nothing in either state of what.
passed in the other. Thcu in her trance she exhi
bited three marvellous powers; she could read by
the touch alone; if she pressed her hand against
the whole surface of a written or printed page, she
acquired a perfect knowledge of its contents, not
of the substance only, but of the words, and would
criticise the type or handwriting. A line of a
folded note pressed against her neck, she read
equally well; she called this sense_feeling. Cam
tact was necessary for it. Her sense of smell was
at the saute time siogiil irly acute; when out riding
one day, she said, There's a violet," and cantered
her torso fifty yards to wbcro it grow. Persons
whom she knew, she could tell were approaching
the house, when yet at some distance. When per
sons were playing chess at a table behind her, and
intentionally made impassable moves, she would
smile and ask them why they did it.
Cases of this description arc no doubt of rare oc
currence. Yet not a year passes in London with
out something transpiring of. the existence of one
or more of them in the huge metropolis. Medical
men view them with unpardonable indifference.—
Thus one doctor told me of a lady, whom he had
been attending with other physicians, who, it ap
peared, always announced that they were coming
some minutes before they drove to the door. It
was very odd, he thought, and there was an end
of it.
CAPSICUM HOUSE;
FOR YOUNG LADIES
A Letter from India—A Turtle.—As Miss Grif
fin came down the walk, Mr. Corks appeared in the
back ground. Ills fate seemed we thought, ripe
with satisfaction. His eyes—lns lover's eyes—
drooped tenderly. upon Miss Griffin, and she swept
along the path. As she advanced upon the holly-bush
that screened us, we sauntered round it, as though
lackadaisically strolling from another walk.
"I come to seek you," said Miss Griffin, all of a
glow.
" Ladies,"—and she turned to her pupils suddenly
huddled together, Fluke, however standing out from
the crowd in very bold relief—" Ladies to your
tasks. In fire minutes I shall be prepared to ex
amine the Turtle-Soup class."
"If it's real turtle, ma'am," said Fluke, " I'm not
yet in it. You know, when you examined me, I
hadn't got beyond call's head."
Miss Griffin now really felt that the moment was
arrived when, with a tremendous repartee, she
ought relentlessly to crush that daring girl, once
and forever. Miss Griffin's mind was made up—
she would do it. And then frowning she looked
above her—then below her—but, somehow, the
withering retort would not come; then she looked
to the left, into the very middle of a bush of worm
wood—then to the right, on a bed of capsicums—
still, neither sharp nor bitter syllable would present
itself. Deep was the vexation of Miss Griffin. She
felt majestic pains, akin, no doubt, to those of Ju
piter, when ho would coerce rebellion, but has
somewhere mislaid his thunderbolt. And then
Miss Griffin smiled, and said, "Nevertheless, Miss
Fluke, you will attend the class. Go in, child.—
When you .are able to write a letter like this," —and
Miss Griffin laid her hand as reverently upon the
sheet as though it had been a hundred pound bank
note—" then, for all this care, all this indulgence,
how you will bless me."
Miss Fluke, without condescending to award the
least hope of any such benediction on her part, just
jerked a courtesy, and, like a fantailed pidgeon,
minced her way to the house, followed by her com
panions, whose sides—had Miss Griffin turned to
view them—were shaking with laughter in its soft
est sounds.
"I suppose I shall be rewarded for my trouble
with that little minx—pardon the expression ;" cried
Miss Griffin, shrinking from the epithet with all
the delicacy of a woman.
"No doubt, madam," said we comfortingly.—
"No doubt, your mission is indeed a trial—"
"Sir, but for consolation, for encouragement like
this"—and Miss Gritlin shook the letter—"it would
destroy the marble statue of a saint. But this con.
revs with it a real ,olacc."
The most delicons I ever looked upon," cried
Mr. Corks, coining up at the word, and rubbing
his hands, we at first thought, in affectionate sym
pathy with the governess. "I wonder how much
it weighs: You could see the turtle on its back!
A disc, sir—a disc that would have covered Achil
les. I cannot account for it"—and Corks suddenly
intonated in his oiliest falsetto—"but I feel a sort
of—of—sympathy—of tenderness, when I see a
turtle thrown upon its back. In a moment, my
imagination transports me to those waters of ceru
lean blue—to those shores of golden sand—to the
impended caverns of the deep—where the creature
was wont to swim, and 'risk, and dive; and then—
to sec it on its back—greatness overthrown, await
ing the knife. Ido feel for the creature: I always
feel for it."
Miss Griffin's eyes—as the professor of intonation
ran up and down his voice—dilated with sensibility.
Hurriedly she cried. "But this, and things like
this—to say nothing of the turtle—arc my best re
ward. It is, str,"—and Miss Griffin turned to us—
" it is from a dear pupil of mine, the late Caroline
'turner, now Lady M'Thistle, of the Madras Bench.
She went out in The Forlorn hope, with goods for
the India market."
" And has married well I" we venture to observe
•'She has married, sir, the man of her choice.—
She was aver a girl of energy, sir; always would
have her own will. And such arc the girls, sit, to
scud to the Colonies. They make us respected at
home and abroad."
" And, as 'you say, Miss Ruffler—landed from
The Forlorn Hope—married the man she loved?'
"I meant to say, sir—that at the very first ball;
she made her mind up to the man she proposed to
make happy; and if marriage can insure litippi
nC9s--"
" Can :" echoed Corks, spreading his hand across
his waistcoat.
Caroline has done it. Here is her own sweet
letter. I wish I could read it to you every linc"—
said Miss Griffin—. but that's impossible. Tho
female heart has so many secret places—unthought
of—unrespected—unvalucd"—
For all the world, like a writing.desk"—said
the figurative Corks—".t writing desk with secret
drawers. To the common eye—the unthinking
eyc—there looks nothing: all seems plain and
above board—and thou, you touch the hidden
[WHOLE NUMBER. 899.
spring, the drawers arc open, and discover who
shall say what yellow gold, what rustling notes?
And such"—said Corks, dropping his voice like a
plummet—" such is woman's heart."
Miss Griffin sighed, and continued. "Neverthe
less, I think I can pick you out some delicious
little bits—what I call bits of real feeling."
"That will do," said Corks; "from the litle too
of Diana, we may judge the whole of the Parian
statue."
"Now, this is so like her," said Miss Griffin,
and she read, " You will naturally inquire, my
dear, dear governess, what I wore at my first ball.
You know that I always detested the moietricious
show of jewels. A simple flower was ever my
choice—a rose-bud before a ruby."
" And there nature, divine nature"—said Corks
—"is such a kind creature. Always keeps open
shop."
"Therefore, as you may well imagine—read
Miss Griffin-4'J did nut wear a single gem. I
appeared in my white muslin, voluminously flounc
ed ; nevertheless, how I did blaze. For what do
you think ? Inside my flounces, I had sewed a
hundred fireflies, alive, and as it were burning:
You can't imagine the effect and the astonish.
ment. Women—who by their looks bad lived
forty years in the country, smothered, I may say,
with flies day and night, had never before thought
of such a thing—and I am sure some of 'cm, for
spite—the wicked creatures: could have eaten me for
it. Sir Alexander has since told me"—that is her
husband," said Miss Griffin, so very solemnly, that
we almost felt inclined to touch our heart. Miss
Griffin, after a pause, continued: "Sir Alexander
has since told 11re that the cheapness of my jewelry
slightly touched his heart; but—being resolved to
die a bachelor—he would not be subdued. Neverthe
less, as he confessed, those fireflies imprisoned in
muslin didfasl him. You will preeeive that Sir
Alexander is from the balmier though colder sido
of the Tweed. Providence conferred honor upon
the very flourishing town of Sahcoats, by select.
ing it as his birthplace. Yes, dearest governess;
my taste, my economic taste, was not altogether
lust. Think how pretty—and how cheap Fire.
flies captive in white muslin bonds."
4 , I don't know," said Corks, " but I think there's
some meaning in that."
" No—nothing !" cried Miss Griffin, with pettiest
mirth; 'how should there be? But let us go on.
The dear girl then says, "My final triumph was,
dearest governess, as you predicted; it was tho
triumph of the kitchen. Sir Alexander visited tho
clear friends who protected me. I had heard inuCh
ofhislove for his native land and every thingbelong
ing to it. Bow often lie wished to lay at least his
bones in the kirk-yard of Salteoats, though he con.
tinned to sit upon the bench of Madras. Sir Alex
ander was to dine with my friends. I felt that my
moment was come. I asked one boon—only one:
the sole direction of one cook for the coming day.
Need I say it was granted 9 It was in that inter
val that I felt the strength of the principle I had
imbid€d in your pantry. A something in my heart
assured me of conquest ; and I was calm—l may
say desperately calm !"
"Beautiful!" cried Conks. "Quite Siddonian."
Miss Griffic smiled, and went on with Lady Br-
Thistle's letter !
"'The dinner hour arrived. Sir Alexander—it
had been so settled—took me down. Course after
course disappeared : and Sir Alexander took no
more than his usual notice of them. At length a
dish was placed before him. Ilis eyes gleamed—
his lips quivered—he snatched off the cover. 11.
saw his native haggis!"'
"What is haggis?" asked Corks.
Miss Griffin waved her hand, and read—" Sir
Alexander looked at the hostess; and she—dear
soul—instantly said, and very audibly—" The cook,
Sir Alexander, sits beside you!" He smiled; but—
I since know his character—his judicial prudence
rose within him. He would not commit himself!
lie would first taste the haggis. He ate—and ate—
and ate—and his face grew red and bright; and as
he ate, I could sce it, Scotland rose before him.—
lle his blue hills—lie heard the rushing streams;
his foot was upon the heather! A tear—a patri.
otic tear—trickled from his right eye. I could
have kissed it from his check! The guests saw..
but respected his emotion, and were silent. For
twenty years had they beheld him on the bench, in
the most tremendous moments, and yet had they
never seen the strong man weep before! And now
he dropped a tear upon his [stave dish—and I had
unlocked that tear, and made it trickle from its
aicred source! Why should I further describe?
In three days Sir Alexander having first with his
own eyes supervened my preparation of a second
haggis—in three days, I became
"Your affectionate pupil,
CArotIN Itrriirrrtz."
"P. S. I send you a turtle. Lore to all the
MS
" Beautiful:" repeated Corks
"Very beautiful-4 may say, too beautiful,"
cried Miss Griffin; who then twitched out her
pockm.liandkerchicf; and made for the house.
"Very odd, sir," we observed, " very odd tht.t a
man should be caught in matrimony by a haggis.
If cookery's to do it, the chains of hymen may be
forged cut of black puddings."
"I can't say, sir," replied Corks, "but on thing
is, I think, plain—that to catch and keep a man 'e
heart, it may now and then bo necessary to tickle
his stomach."—London Punch.
==
The 26 letters of the alphabet make 403 quanta.
lions of combinations; 20 make 2 1 1 quadrillions,
nd 12 would make 379 millions.
Recreation is a second creation, when weariness
Math almost annihilated one's spirits. It is tho
breathing of the soul, which otherwise would be
stilled witbcontinual business.