brings down the internal edge of the foot, at the same time acting to some extent as an extensor and abductor, as Duchenne has shown. The loss of contractility in the muscles takes place in the following order: The muscles of the tongue, the fail to react to electric excitement, though the diaphragm, and those of the face, are the first to masseter holds out a long time; in the limbs the extensors fail before the flexors; the muscles which preserve their excitability longest are those of the trunk. The form of muscular contraction varies as the contractility lessens. It is interesting to remark that the order in which the muscles become inactive is analogous to that of lead-paralysis.

THE IMMENSE COAL-AREA OF THE UNITED STATES.-Professor Hitchcock gives in the "Geological Magazine” a good sketch of the vast coal deposits of America. He states that the total area amounts to 230,659 square miles; no notice being taken of any coals which do not belong to the Carboniferous system. There are many others of commercial importance, as the Triassic of Virginia, the Cretaceous of the Territories west of the Missouri River, an immense amount in California, Alaska, &c. These facts will afford data for those who are interested in estimating the amount of coal in different countries by the number of cubic miles or tons. The statements are too brief to permit any notice of the best or of the inferior coal.

RELICS OF A STONE-AGE HOMESTEAD.-Dr. Charles C. Abbot has written an able paper on this subject in the "American Naturalist" for May, in which he describes some very interesting relics recently found by him. These were met with in a circumscribed spot of about thirty feet in diameter, and some twenty inches below the surface of the ground. The floor of this "homestead," as we have called it, was very hard and compact; the soil being of a darker color than the superincumbent earth, and well mixed with small oval gravel stones, of a noticeably uniform size. At one side of the nearly circular spot was a well-defined fireplace, marked by a circle of oval white stones, six to eight inches in length, and half that in thickness. Within this circle was a layer of ashes and charcoal, seven inches deep in the centre, and three at the margin of the fire-place. This coal and ash deposit showed, on careful examinaion, a considerable percentage of minute fragments of mussel shell, and of small fragments of bones, too much splintered to identify, but apparently the long bones of wading birds and of the larger fishes. Several other remains were also found, and have been well described by the author, who, in conclusion, asked the following question :-" Whence came the people who once occupied this spot, and left these abundant traces of their sojourn here? Marking the degree of civilisation, or rather, of its absence, as estimated by these relics, does it, indeed, seem possible,

as sketched by Haeckel, that from hypothetical Lemuria, in the Indian Ocean, a being worthy then to be called a man, could finally, after many ages, reach North-west America, and then cross our broad continent, to reach the Atlantic coast, in a state of advancement only equal to the production of such rude stone implements as we have described? We do not doubt the correctness of the theory of the evolution of man from creatures not men, but that the ancestors of the American red-skin lived nearer home than the Indian Ocean, we cannot but think."

HABITS OF ANTS DISPLAYING CONSIDERABLE INTELLIGENCE.-Mr. Darwin has received a letter from J. D. Hague, which, as it contains facts of interest, he has sent to "Nature" for publication. Among other points of interest in the communication is the following account:-“One day I observed a number of ants, perhaps thirty or forty, on the shelf at the foot of the vase. Thinking to kill them I struck them lightly with the end of my finger, killing some and disabling the rest. The effect of this was immediate and unexpected. As soon as those ants that were approaching arrived near to where their fellows lay dead and suffering, they turned and fled with all possible haste. In half an hour the wall above the mantelshelf was cleared of ants. During the space of an hour or two the colony from below continued to ascend, until reaching the lower bevelled edge of the shelf, at which point the more timid individuals, although unable to see the vase, somehow became aware of trouble and turned about without further investigation; while the more daring advanced hesitatingly just to the upper edge of the shelf, where, extending their antennæ and stretching their necks, they seemed to peep cautiously over the edge until beholding their suffering companions, when they too turned and followed the others, expressing by their behavior great excitement and terror. An hour or two later the path or trail leading from the lower colony to the vase was almost entirely free from ants. I killed one or two ants on their path, striking them with my finger, but leaving no visible trace. The effect of this was that as soon as an ant ascending towards the shelf reached the spot where one had been killed, it gave signs immediately of great disturbance, and returned directly at the highest speed possible. A curious and invariable feature of their behavior was, that

when such an ant, returning in fright, met another approaching, the two would always communicate, but each would pursue its own way: the second ant continuing its journey to the spot where the first had turned about, and then following that example."

ARE HOT-AIR STOVES INJURIOUS TO HEALTH? This question is answered by the "Scientific Press," of San Francisco, which alleges that they are when made of cast-iron. It says, "Furnaces for heating dwellings should never be made of

cast-iron, as is generally the case, for the reason that the unhealthy gases of combustion-carbonic acid and carbonic oxide-readily permeate such iron when hot, and are thus distributed through the dwelling to the great detriment of health. The furnace should be made of wrought iron exclusively-boiler iron, through which, when properly put together, not a trace of those deleterious gases passes. The expense is greater, but not sufficient to outweigh the health consideration. Wrought-iron furnaces are largely supplying the place of cast-iron ones in our Eastern cities. In cold countries, especially, this matter, as a sanitary question, rises to great importance; and, indeed, it is quite time that more regard was paid to the character of the air we breathe in our dwellings, school-rooms, and public buildings."

THE LEMURS NOT RELATED TO THE APES.Professor Milne Edwards has made an important discovery. It seems that he has prosecuted an extensive series of observations on "The Embryology of the Lemurians and the zoological affinities of those animals ;" and he finds that the

placental system differs so widely from that of the simiæ, with which they have been supposed to present very close relationships, that he is of opinion the lemurs should take an intermediate, but wholly distinct, place between monkeys and carnivores.

FUNGI IN THE EAR.-Since the year 1844, when the attention of physicians was first called to the subject, the growth of minute fungi in the ear has been reported to be a common cause of disease of that part. The meatus, canals, and tympanum are sometimes covered with the growth, in the form of white or yellow mould on their surfaces. Professor Seely, of Cincinnati, reports three cases of diseased ear in which he detected the fungus Aspergillus. Tinnitus, inflammation, and the accumulation of wax are the attendant symptoms, and the treatment consists in the applica. tion of a solution of carbolic acid, five grains to the ounce of water. The Pacific Medical Fournal expresses the opinion, however, that, as it is found impossible to transplant the ectophytes to a healthy ear by inoculation, they are probably

the effects of disease rather than the cause.

VARIETIES.

DR. JOHNSON.-Goldsmith's good-nature suffered him to see nothing of the bear about Johnson but the skin; but the detail of the paws was wanting to perfect the portrait. Certainly, of the existence of the paws Goldsmith must have been conscious; for, with the exception of Boswell, he had been more rudely crushed in their embrace than any of the friends of the doctor. Samuel, indeed, commenced life with the full intention of being dux wherever he was. The boy was father The posture of superiority was the only posture in which he felt at ease. At school

of the man.

his favorite pastime was to be drawn on the ice by a barefooted lad, who drew him along by a garter attached to his waist. Here is the monarch in miniature. Doubtless the bare feet of the boy augmented the sense of vassalage so necessary to the spirit of Johnson. In after-life he was drawn about by another slave, called Boswell. At college he directed his efforts to stir up the students against their discipline; to the authorities he could not become superior, but he might hope, perhaps as a demagogue, to share their power. When he was five-and-twenty years old he did precisely what one could suppose Johnson would do: hẻ married a woman aged fifty! He would have, doubtless, called this idle and vicious perversity in another man, and have been mercilessly sarcastic over the mistake of taking a widow when a maid might have been had. Perhaps he hoped to obtain more authority over an old than he could obtain over a young woman. If this were his idea, he did not delay its execution. According to the fashion of those times, the bride and bridegroom set out on horseback for the church; but before they got there, Johnson found it necessary to show his wife, as he afterwards showed his friends, that wherever he was he must be first. Let him tell his own story:-"Sir, she had read the old romances, and had got into her head the fantastical notion that a woman of spirit should use her lov er like a dog. So, sir, at first she told me that I rode too fast, and she could not keep up with me, and when I rode a little slower she passed me, and complained that I lagged behind. I was not to be made the slave of caprice, and I resolved to begin as I meant to end. I therefore pushed on briskly, until I was fairly out of sight. The road lay between two hedges, so that I was sure she could not miss it. When she did, I observed her to be in tears." His marriage, his affection, his admiration for his wife were perfectly in accord with his character. If we may believe Garrick, Mrs. Porter was stout and old, with swelling bosoms such as Fielding loved to write of, and fat cheeks whose dimensions she exaggerated by a thick coating of paint. She had an undue partiality for strong waters. Her voice was loud; her walk was a swagger; she was gross in her tastes, affected in her behavior, and flaring in her dress. Either Johnson was too proud or too blind to see his mistake; for he would talk of her beauty as Congreve talked of the charms of Mrs. Bracegirdle; he contrived endearing appellations for her; he had the highest respect for her judgment; and when she died, mourned her with a constancy and vehemence of grief that throughout his long life suffered no abatement. Though they often quarreled, there is no doubt that they were not more unhappy together than most married people are. At all events they were well matched. To any other man but Johnson, her whims, her habits, her tastes, her person, the abundant peculiarities or mental infirmities which are generated by old age, would have been ex

tremely distasteful; but Johnson also ad habits and tastes which, if they were more original, were certainly not less disagreeable than hers. At table he was singularly gross in his manners and offensive in his choice. There were periods probably when her appetite might have deserted her; when, with face as yellow as her cheeks would allow it to become, she could only watch him with amazement and disgust. He would pour oystersauce over plum-pudding, and allow the melted butter to run from his toast into his chocolate. His favorite dish was a veal-pie sweetened with sugar, or stuffed with plums; but hardly less choice in his eyes was the red rind of a salt buttock of beef, or a leg of pork boiled until the flesh fell in rags from the bone. He did not eat; he gorged. He could devour at a sitting as much as would nourish two whales. He would masticate his food with the energy and fervor with which he declaimed; the veins would stand out upon his temples, and the perspiration pour from his forehead. Nor was his eating the most formi. dable of his habits. His gesticulations were often so excessive and uncontrollable that he would twitch the shoes off ladies' feet, sweep the saltboxes from the table, or cause a general confusion by half tearing off the tablecloth. He threw open windows on the bleakest December days, and would stand meditatively in the cold draught whilst those in the room crept for shelter behind the screen, or into the fender for warmth. His behavior in the streets was equally surprising. As he passed along he would knock loads off porters' backs, and walk on in happy unconsciousness of the mischief he had done: nor would the sufferers, as they surveyed the burly form rolling from them in an outline not unlike that of the back view of an elephant, dare to pursue him. His march seemed to be performed by the wagging of his head and the contortions of his body rather than by the movement of his feet. Crowds would collect to watch him. He would touch the street posts as he passed with superstitious precision, and if he omitted one, he would retrace his steps that the queer ceremony might be more punctually gone through. At intervals he was seized with cramp or convulsion, and would dance about the pavement to the consternation or merriment of the passengers.-Colburn's New Monthly Maga

zine.

MUSCULAR STRENGTH OF INSECTS.-M. Félix Plateau, a young Belgian naturalist, and a son of the celebrated physician, has lately tried some very delicate experiments to measure the muscular strength of insects, as others have done with man and the horse. The strength of the last two is estimated by the aid of a machine called a dynamometer, where the tension of a spring is coun. terbalanced by an effort exercised for a very short time. A man, it is found, has a power of traction equal to five sixths of his weight; a horse, only the half or two thirds of his weight; but this is

very small in comparison with the strength of insects, many of which can draw forty times that amount. The way in which M. Plateau has measured these powers is ingenious. He harnessed the insect by a horizontal thread, which was passed over a light movable pulley; to this was attached a balance loaded with a few grains of sand. To prevent the insect turning aside, he made it walk between two bars of glass on a board covered with muslin, so as to afford a rough surface; exciting it forward, he gradually poured fresh sand into the balance until it refused to advance farther; the sand and the insect were then weighed, and the experiment was repeated three times, in order to arrive at a correct conclusion as to the greatest effort that each could make. The tables which give the results of these trials seem clearly to demonstrate that in the same group of insects the lightest and smallest possess the greatest strength; or that the relative force is in inverse ratio to the weight. This law applies also to the experiments in flying and pushing, as well as to drawing. This law, assuredly very curious and interesting in the economy of nature, has been confirmed by trying a dozen individuals of various species, in order to obtain results more approaching to the truth. These have been fully successful in confirming previous experience,-for example, the drone is four times the weight of the bee, yet it can only drag a weight fifteen times greater than its own; whilst the bee easily draws twentythree or twenty-four times its own bulk. In flying, it can raise a weight very little inferior ot its own; whilst the drone can only transport in this manner half its own weight. The law in question appears also to apply not only to the species which belong to the same entomological subdivision, but in a certain measure to the entire class of insects.

It is true that if the species examined are arrang ed by the increasing order of their weight, the corresponding relations which express their relative force are not always exactly progressive. There are exceptions, which may be explained by if they are divided into three groups, compri-ing, the difference of structure. The law holds good respectively, the lightest insects, those of a middle size, and the heaviest. In this way the relative force is represented for the first group by twentysix; for the second, by nineteen; for the last, by nine. This relates only to the power of traction; if that in flying be taken into consideration, the lightest can far surpass the heaviest; the first being equal to one and one third; the last is but one half. The strongest insects appear to be those so familiar to the naturalist, which live on lilies and roses, such as the Crioceres and Trichies. These little beings can draw a weight about forty times superior to their own, and one, an athlete of the tribe, drew sixty-seven times its own weight. A small beetle of the tribe anomale has executed the same feat. Another more remarkable fact is related of a horn-beetle, which held between its mandibles, alternately raising and

lowering its head and breast, a rod of thirty centimetres long, weighing four hundred grammes; its own weight was but two grammes. At the side of this insect, what are the acrobats who can carry a table between their teeth! Such examples show to what an extent insects are superior to the larger animals in the strength of their muscles. Dry and nervous, they can, in proportion to themselves, move mountains. In addition to this, they are ingenious; when an obstacle does not yield to them, they know how to turn it aside. One day, in a garden, a small wasp was trying to raise a caterpillar, which it had just killed. The caterpillar was at least five or six times heavier than its conqueror, which could not gain its end. Six times successively, weary of the war, and despairing of success, it abandoned its prey, and sadly placed itself at some distance. At last a bright idea saved it from its embarrassment: it returned, placed itself across the caterpillar as if on horseback; with its two middle feet it embraced the body of its victim, raised it against its breast, and managed to walk on the four feet which were at liberty; thus it soon crossed a walk of six feet wide, and laid its prey against a wall.-Chambers's Journal.

FOUR PORTRAITS.-Four faces among the portraits of modern men, great or small, strike us as supremely beautiful, not merely in expression, but in the form and proportion and harmony of features-Shakspeare, Raffaelle, Goethe, Burns. One would expect it to be so; for the mind makes the body, not the body the mind; and the inward beauty seldom fails to express itself in the outward, as a visible sign of the invisible grace or disgrace of the wearer. Not that it is so always. A Paul, Apostle of the Gentiles, may be ordained to be "in presence weak, in speech contemptible," hampered by some thorn in the flesh-to interfere apparently with the success of his mission, perhaps for the same wise purpose of Providence which sent Socrates to the Athenians, the worship. pers of physical beauty, in the ugliest of human bodies, that they, or rather those of them to whom eyes to see had been given, might learn that soul is after all independent of matter, and not its creature and its slave. But, in the generality of cases, physiognomy is a sound and faithful science, and tells us, if not, alas! what the man might have been, still what he has become. Yet even this former problem, what he might have been, may often be solved for us by youthful portraits, before sin and sorrow and weakness have had their will upon the features; and, therefore, when we spoke of these four beautiful faces, we alluded, in each case, to the earliest portraits of each genius which we could recollect. Placing them side by side, we must be allowed to demand for that of Robert Burns an honorable station among them. Of Shakspeare's we do not speak, for it seems to us to combine in itself the elements of all the other three; but of the rest, we

question whether Burns's be not, after all, if not the noblest, still the most lovable-the most like what we should wish that of a teacher of men to be. Raffaelle-the most striking portrait of him, perhaps, is the full-faced pencil sketch by his own hand in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford-though without a taint of littleness or effeminacy, is soft, melancholy, formed entirely to receive and to elaborate in silence. His is a face to be kissed, not worshipped. Goethe, even in his earliest portraits, looks as if his expression depended too much on his own will. There is a self-conscious power, and purpose, and self-restraint, and all but scorn, upon those glorious lineaments, which might win worship, and did; but not love, except as the child of enthusiasm or of relationship. But Burns's face, to judge of it by the early portrait of him by Nasmyth, must have been a face like that of Joseph of old, of whom the Rabbis relate, that he was mobbed by the Egyptian ladies whenever he walked the streets. The magic of that countenance, making Burns at cnce tempter and tempted, may explain many a sad story. The features certainly are not perfect. ly regular; there is no superabundance of the charm of mere animal health in the outline or color; but the marks of intellectual beauty in the face are of the highest order, capable of being but too triumphant among a people of deep thought and feeling. The lips, ripe, yet not coarse or loose, full of passion and the faculty of enjoyment, are parted, as if forced to speak by the inner fulness of the heart; the features are rounded, rich, and tender, and yet the bones show through massively and manfully everywhere; the eyes laugh out upon you with boundless good humor and sweetness, with simple, eager, gentle surprise-a gleam as of the morning star, looking forth upon the wonder of a new-born world-altogether,

A station like the herald Mercury,
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.
-Charles Kingsley.

66 no

A PET SNAKE.-The most charming snakecharmer is Mrs. M., whom an inquirer, very much afraid of snakes," has been kindly allowed to interview. Mr. M., who received the visitor, after remarks upon the weather, produced out of a cupboard a large boa constrictor, a python, and several small snakes, which at once made themselves at home on the writing-table among pens, ink, and books. Interviewer was a good deal startled when the two large snakes coiled round and round Mr. M., and began to notice himself with their bright eyes and forked tongues. Mr. M. then went to call Mrs. M., leaving him alone with the boa deposited on an arm-chair. He felt queer when the animal began gradually to come near him, to improve their tête-à-tête, but was soon relieved by the entrance of his hosts, followed by two little children, charming and charmers also. The lady and children went at once to the boa, and, calling it by the most en

dearing names, allowed it to twine itself most gracefully round about them. This boa constrictor, as thick round as a small tree, twined playfully round the lady's waist and neck, forming a kind of turban round her head, and expecting to be petted and made much of like a kitten. The children over and over again took its head in their hands, and kissed its mouth, pushing aside its forked tongue in doing so. "Every one to his taste," as the old man said when he kissed his cow. The animal seemed much pleased, and kept continually turning its head towards the interviewer, until he allowed it for a moment to nestle its head up his sleeve. This splendid serpent coiled all round Mrs. M. while she moved about the room and when she stood up to pour out coffee. He seemed to adjust his weight so nicely, and every coil with its beautiful markings was relieved by the lady's black velvet dress. About a year ago Mr. and Mrs. M. were away for six weeks, and left the boa in charge of a keeper at the Zoo. The poor reptile moped, slept, and refused to be comforted; but when his master and mistress appeared, he sprang upon them with delight, coiling himself round them, and showing every symptom of intense delight. The children are devoted to their "darling Cleo," as they call the snake, and smiled when interviewer asked if they were ever frightened of it. Interviewer's conclusion. It is mere prejudice, when snakes are not venomous, to abhor them as we do. They are intelligent and harmless, perfectly clean, with no sort of smell, make no kind of noise, and move about far more gracefully than lap dogs or other pets. These seemed very obedient, and remained in their cupboard when told to do so.-From All the Year Round.

AMERICAN SILENCE.-The Americans struck me generally as a silent people; though the very contrary idea is prevalent in England, I know not on what grounds. But they certainly seemed to me more taciturn and reserved than ourselves, and I think most travellers will confirm the remark. In the dining-rooms of the large hotels, in the railway cars and elsewhere, they made less noise than half the number of English would have done; there was but little conversation even amongst those acquainted with each other, and those who were unacquainted never spoke at all. In the whole course of my travels, I don't think I was ever addressed in the first instance; I always received perfectly civil replies to my questions, and had many pleasant conversations with strangers on the steamboats, railways, and other public places, but there was always a certain amount of ice to be broken through first. No one can deny them the faculty of wit, or at least an extravagant humor which is characteristically American, yet you rarely hear jokes or a hearty laugh amongst them; there seems a total absence of jollity or joviality in all classes, a ten

dency rather to gravity or even melancholy, and an American owned to me, half seriously, that he thought there was something of the Red Indian reticence and gravity appearing in the national character. I am inclined to think that this tristesse, as the French would call it, arises from the general absorption of all classes in business and moneymaking; no one is idle, no one "loafs," and nobody seems to have time for enjoyment or pleasure. It is the same charge that other nations make against the English, and with a certain amount of truth, that we take our pleasures sadly, which means, partly that we work hard at our pleasures, carrying the same seriousness into them as into our business, but which also, I think, arises from the greater manliness of the English character, that prevents our finding pleasure or relaxation in the same childish amusements as the French or Italians. In America, this national trait has been reproduced, and is intensified by the simple fact that there is no idle class there; no class, as with us (though of course there are individuals), which is exempt from the necessity of working for a living. I never fully appreciated the value of this class at home before; now that I have been to America (and I make the remark in all sincerity), I recognise it fully. Such a class, removed from the anxieties inseparable from the conduct of business or the practice of a profession, has leisure not only for the cultivation of the taste, the pursuit of art, science, and literature, and for studying the amenities of social intercourse, but also for the not less valuable art of pleasure-seeking generally, and of carrying manliness and refinement into our sports and amusements.-From "An Autumn Tour in the United States and Canada," by J. G. Medley.

WAR THE NORMAL CONDITION IN THE WORLD.-A fancy has come over us during the last blessed forty years of unexampled peace from which our ancestors of the sixteenth century were kept, by stern and yet most wholesome lessons; the fancy that peace, and not war, is the normal condition of the world. The fancy is so fair that we blame none who cherish it; after all, they do good by cherishing it; they point us to an ideal which we should otherwise forget, as Babylon, Rome, France in the seventeenth century, forgot utterly. Only they are in hasteand pardonable haste, too-to realise that ideal, forgetting that to do so would be really to stop short of it, and to rest contented in some form of human society far lower than that which God has actually prepared for those who love Him. Better to believe that all our conceptions of the height to which the human race might attain, are poor and paltry compared with that toward which God is guiding it, and for which he is disciplining it by awful lessons; and to fight on, if need be, ruthless, and yet full of pity-and many a noble soul has learnt within the last two years [1855-6] how easy it is to reconcile in practice that seeming para