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SLEEP AND Sleeplessness. -Dr. J. M. Granville, in an interesting work on this subject, says with reference to the difficulty some persons find in getting to sleep: 'Habit greatly helps the performance of the initial act, and the cultivation of a habit of going to sleep in a particular way, at a particular time, will do more to procure regular and healthy sleep than any other artifice. The formation of the habit is, in fact, the creation or development of a special centre, or combination, in the nervous system, which will henceforward produce sleep as a natural rhythmical process. If this were more generally recognized, persons who suffer from sleeplessness of the sort which consists in simply being 'unable to go to sleep,' would set themselves resolutely to form such a habit. It is necessary that the training should be explicit, and include attention to details. It is not very important what a person does with the intention

of going to sleep, but he should do precisely

the same thing, in the same way, at the same time and under as nearly as possible the same conditions, night after night for a considerable period, say three or four weeks at least."

THE CHRONOLOGY OF BRONZE IMPLEMENTS. -A valuable paper by Professor G. de Mortillet, "On the Classification and Chronology of Bronze Celts," has been published in a recent number of M. Cartailhac's Matériaux pour l'Histoire de l'Homme. The most interesting part of the paper is that in which he deals with the successive development of forms. His studies lead him to the conclusion that in France, in Switzerland, and in Belgium the oldest type of bronze celt is that with straight flanges at the sides. This was followed by one with a transverse stop-ridge, which was succeeded by the true winged celt, and this in turn by the socketed form. Of still later age, and passing probably into the iron-using period, were those celts which he terms haches votives -a type destitute of a sharp cutting edge, and never intended for real service, but simply for religious purposes. M. Mortillet's boldest conjecture is that the latest type of all may be the simple flat celt destitute of flange or rib, wing or socket, and formed usually of pure copper rather than of an alloy like bronze. Most archæologists have, on the contrary, regarded this type of celt as the very earliest of all, inasmuch as it presents the utmost simplicity alike in shape and in composition. It is, therefore, interesting to hear from so experienced an observer as Professor Mortillet that the conditions under which these simple celts generally occur lead him to suppose that they are altogether of later date than the bronze age, and were probably never intended to be used either as weapons or as tools.

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MISCELLANY.

THE EIDER DUCK.-In a country so poor as Iceland the down of the eider duck is an appreciable source of wealth, and the bird has been practically domesticated. Close to every little handel-stud, or trading station, if there is a convenient island, there is sure to be a colony of eider ducks, and the birds are to be seen by hundreds swimming and fluttering about their island home, or squatted upon its shores in conscious security from the foxes which infest the main-land. From the largest of these 'duckeries" as much as three hundred pounds is cleared annually, the down being worth The ducks make their nests among the rough about a sovereign per pound on an average. hummocks characteristic of all grass-land in Iceland, laying their large olive-green eggs upon neat little beds of down," so soft and brown." They are perfectly tame, allowing themselves only a few querulous notes of remonstrance. to be lifted off their eggs and replaced with When the nest has been repeatedly robbed of the down, and the poor duck finds difficulty in replacing it, the drake comes to the rescue, and recognizes his paternal responsibility by furnishing a supply of down from his own breast.

HOW ARTIFICIAL PEARLS ARE MADE.— Many persons have no doubt been frequently struck with the great beauty of artificial or imitation pearls. Those who make it their business to produce such articies of ornamentation have attained to a high degree of perfection in theirart; so much so that in 1862, at the London Exhibition, a Frenchman who was an adept at their manufacture, exhibited a row of large real and imitation pearls alternately; and without close inspection, we are assured it would have been impossible even for a judge to have selected the real from the unreal. Some translations from French and German works on this manufacture have recently been communicated to Land and Water, and from these it ap. pears that the art of making imitation pearls is ascribed to one Jacquin, a chaplet and rosary manufacturer at Passy, who lived about 1680. Noticing that the water after cleaning some white-fish (Leuciscus alburnus), a species of dace, was of a silvery appearance, he gradually collected the sediment, and with this substance -to which he gave the name of essence d'orient -and with a thin glue made of parchment, he lined the glass beads of which he framed his rosaries, and afterward filled them with wax. The method of making the round bead is by heating one end-which has first been closed -of a glass tube, which then, when blown into two or three times, expands into a globular form. The workman then separates the bead, places the end which has been heated on a wire, and heats the other end. This process is

called bordering or edging. The best pearls are made in the same way, the holes of the tubes being gradually reduced by heat to the size of those of the real pearls, the workman taking each bead on inserted wire, and, by continually turning them round in the flame of the lamp used, they become so true as to be strung as evenly as the Oriental pearls. The process of coloring the pearl is commenced by lining the interior of the ball with a delicate layer of perfectly limpid and colorless parchment glue; and before it is quite dry the essence of orient is introduced by means of a slender glass blowpipe. It is then allowed to dry; the pearl is filled with wax, and, if intended for a necklace, is pierced through the wax with a red-hot needle. The essence of orient, as it is called, is the chief ingredient in the manufacture of the pearl. It is a very valuable substance, and is obtained from the fish above named by rubbing them rather roughly in a basin of pure water, so as to remove the scales; the whole is then strained through a linen cloth, and left for several days to settle, when the water is drawn off. The sediment forms the essence referred to. It requires from seventeen to eighteen thousand fish to obtain about a pound of this substance! Besides the French imitation pearls, as those above described are called, there are the Roman pearls, which are made of wax, covered with a kind. of pearly lustre. But these do not look so well as the French pearls; while, in a heated room, they are apt to soften and stick to the skin. A very extensive trade is now done in the manufacture and sale of French artificial pearls.-Chambers's Journal.

How BIRDS EAT SNAKES. It has long been a matter of popular belief that the great kingfisher was an enemy of the snake, perpetually warring upon the tribe in general, and never happier than when dining on serpent au naturel. It is not often, however, that even persons habitually residing in the bush have so good an opportunity as that afforded a few days since to Mr. Christian Westendorff, of Jindera, for observing the laughing jackass when in the act of bagging the game referred to. Mr. Westendorff was engaged with another man in clearing some land, and in the course of the day's operations it became necessary to shift a large log. For this purpose levers were applied to each end, and after some straining the log was rolled from its resting place. The very moment it commenced to move, a laughing jackass, which had hitherto been taking a deep but unobtrusive interest in the proceed. ings, made a swoop down from the limb of an adjacent tree, and seized a large snake which had been lying under the log. The snake was gripped by the back of the neck (if snakes can

be said to have necks) and borne away to the bird's previous perch, where the unfortunate reptile was banged against the bough until the body separated from the head and fell to the ground. The jackass then dropped the head, and seizing the body sailed away in triumph with his prize. Whether the bird had seen the snake go under the log and was watching for it to come forth again, or whether it knew by instinct that the reptile was there, is a question that may be left for naturalists to determine; but we are credibly informed that as soon as the log was shifted, and before Mr. Westendorff or his companion had any idea of a snake being in their neighborhood, the jackass was down and had made good his seizure. -Albury Banner (New South Wales).

A CHINESE THANK-OFFERING.-It is considered a benevolent act, and one highly pleasing to Heaven, to give a public theatrical performance; and wealthy men, who wish to return public thanks for any special piece of goodfortune, or who cater for popularity, often expend considerable sums in this way. A rich Chinaman, in whose neighborhood we once lived, invited us to be present at a performance of this kind. He had been very successful in his commercial speculations, and had recently obtained by purchase the rank of a high-class mandarin, with the privilege of wearing an opaque blue button on the top of his official hat. At one end of a large open space near the entertainer's house a stage had been erected; and at the opposite side, behind the place for the audience, a large temporary box was constructed for the accommodation of the host and his friends. On the appointed day we proceeded to the place, and were received by our Chinese acquaintance and shown to chairs from which we could conveniently survey our strange surroundings. In the middle of the box stood a large table or altar, which groaned under the weight of the good things provided as thanksgiving offerings to Heaven. The innumerable varieties of Chinese dishes were here fully represented: roast ducks decorated with gilt-paper, sweetmeats of all kinds, cakes plentifully bespangled with raisins and currants, imitation little pigs formed of pork, fruits in great variety, pigs' feet garnished with bruised potatoes, and a quantity of dishes whose composition and names we had no opportunity of discovering, were spread out in promiscuous and rich profusion. Two large pink candles, decorated with gold, silver, and green leaves, stood one on each side of the table, and in the centre a bronze basin containing burning incense was placed. The principal compartment in which we sat was flanked on either side by two small boxes in front of which were screens which, while concealing the inmates from the

vulgar gaze, permitted from within a view of the stage and the movements thereon; these boxes were reserved for the ladies belonging to the households of our host and his native friends. In the mean time tea was ordered for us; and a servant placed a small table in front of us, on which he arranged Chinese cups, and poured into them some genuine Chinese tea, as consumed by the natives themselves. For some time we sat and watched the actors and listened to their shrill voices; and we could not help reflecting on the immense gap which separated a performance like what we then witnessed from the gorgeous and carefully-planned scenes of a home theatre. The stage had no "wings" to it; and the only entrances were two doors at the back, through which the actors entered when their turn came round, and retired when they had performed their allotted part; the imaginations of the audience were not assisted by scenery or stage accessories of any kind; indeed, the entire back of the stage was occupied by the orchestra, and by attendants and hangers-on, who went about their occupations as if nothing else were taking place on the boards. The whole thing appeared childish and stupid to us; but, considering the length of each principal actor's part, set as it was to music-if the hideous din and jargon can be dignified by that name-a vast amount of care and trouble must have been bestowed on the preparation; at all events, judging from the attention and the delight of the audience, this Chinese opera bouffe might be pronounced a success.-Tinsley's Magazine.

EGGS OF INSECTS AS FOOD.-" Ants' eggs," the larvæ and nymphæ of these insects, are not only good food for poultry, but they are considered a choice relish by many people spread on bread and butter, and are excellent curried. They are eaten in Siam, forming, with edible birds'-nests, an esteemed article of food, but as they are costly are only obtainable by the rich. Ants' brood are subject to an import duty in some of the countries of Europe, especially in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. In those countries they are steeped in boiling water, and a kind of vinegar or formic acid is obtained. Among the other objects of insect products useful to man are the eggs obtained in Mexico from three species of hemipterous insects belonging to the group of aquatic beetles. These eggs are made into a sort of bread or cake called hautle, consumed by the people, and which form an article of commerce in the markets. In the fresh waters of the lagoons, bundles of reeds or rushes are laid, on which the insects (Corixa femorata and mercenaria, Geoffroy, and Notonecta Americana) deposit their eggs. The bundles of rushes are

then withdrawn dried, and beaten over cloths, to detach the myriads of eggs. These are cleansed and sifted, and put into sacks and sold like flour, to form cakes, which are excellent eating, but have a fishy and slightly acid flavor. The custom seems to have been long practised, for it is mentioned so far back as 1625 by a missionary, Thomas Gage, who, travelling in Mexico, states that these cakes were being sold in the markets.— Journal of Applied Science.

ARTIFICIAL LIGHT.-Various opinions have long prevailed as to the relative effect of artificial and sun light upon the human eyesight, the majority of persons agreeing, however, in this, that whether gas or any other illuminating agent be employed, the smaller the flame and the less intense the light, the better for the preservation of good eyesight. The latest writer upon the subject propounds, however, a theory quite at variance with this generallyreceived notion, his watchword being evidently that well-worn phrase of Goethe's "Light, more light." In a paper on "Ocular Hygiene," a French savant, M. Javal, asserts that under ordinary circumstances we can hardly get too much artificial light. He says that a chandelier carrying a million of waxlights would not give an amount of light equal to sunlight. Even in a room lit up in an unusually brilliant manner the pupils of the eye are much more dilated than in full daylight, and this dilation explains the fatigue of the eyes produced by artificial light. Therefore there is never too much—in fact, never enough-artificial light, and prejudices, without any just foundation, are preva. lent on this point. M. Javal recommends to persons suffering from certain optical defects, who cannot work in the evening, two large lamps, which would obviate the fatigue of reading. Artificial light, also, excepting the electric and magnesium lights, contains fewer chemical rays than daylight. All artificial spectra are very dull on the, most refracted side; the chemical rays, the violets and the blues, there show a very low intensity.-House Decorator and School of Design.

THE DECLARATION.
WHAT makes my heart so wildly throb?
I'm glad, not sorry-yet I sob:

What ails me that I cannot rest?
He told me what I partly guessed.
Why will the tears o'erflow my eyes?
It must have been the glad surprise :

Surprise to find I rightly guessed,
Delight to hear he loved me best.

A sudden joy affects like grief:
But with joy's tumult comes relief

To feel all fears are set at rest,
As when he drew me to his breast.
MARY COWDEN CLARKE,

THOSE Who from however great a distance have shared in the long vigil held in that "little house at Chelsea," of which so much has been heard and said in recent days, must have felt it something like a personal relief and solemn satisfaction when the last bonds were loosened, and the old man, so weary and worn with living, was delivered from his earthly troubles. "They will not understand that it's death I want,' he said one of the last times I saw him. He said the same thing to all his visitors. As he sat, gaunt and tremulous, in the middle of the quiet, graceful little room, with still a faint perfume about it of his wife and her ways, still so like himself, talking in the cadenced and rhythmic tones of his native dialect, which suited so well the natural form of his diction, with now and then an abrupt outburst of that broken laugh which is so often only another form of weepNEW SERIES.-VOL. XXXIII., No. 6

ing, weariness had entered into his soul. Great weakness was no doubt one of its chief causes; but also the loneliness of the heart, the solitude of one whose companion had gone from his side, and who, though surrounded by tender friends and loving service, had no one of the primary relationships left to him, nothing of his very own still remaining out of the wrecks of life. His course was over years ago-nothing left for him to do, no reason for living except the fact that he was left there, and could do no other.

It is scarcely too much to say that the whole nation, in which nevertheless there are so many to whom he was but a name, attended him, with uncovered head and unfeigned reverence, to the little churchyard in Annandale where he is gathered to his fathers. No one now living perhaps, apart from the warmer passion of politics, on the ground of mere literary fame, would call 46

forth so universal a recognition-certainly no one whose voice had been silent and his visible presence departed for so long before the actual ending of his pilgrimage.

It is possible that any disturbance so soon of the religious calm and subduing influence of that last scene would have seemed harsh and unseasonable; but there is more than any mere sentimental objection to the immediate awakening of contending voices over the Master's grave, in the feeling with which we regard the book which has been so hurriedly placed in our hands-the last utterance of the last prophet and sage, what should have been the legacy of ripest wisdom, and calm at least, if not benignant philosophy. That Carlyle was not one who regarded contemporary progress with satisfaction, or had any optimist views about the improvement of the world, we were all well aware. But never had his great spirit stooped to individual contention, to anything that could be called unkindness; and we had no reason to expect that any honest and friendly contemporary on opening this posthumous record should receive a sting. But now the book, so long mysteriously talked of, and to which we have looked as, when it should come, one of the most touching and impressive of utterances, has burst upon the world like a missile, an angry meteor, rather than with the still shining as of a star in the firmament which we had looked for. The effect would scarcely have been more astonishing if, after having laid down that noble and mournful figure to his everlasting rest, he had risen again to pour forth an outburst of angry words upon us. Had we been less near the solemn conclusion, perhaps the shock and surprise would have been less painful; and it is possible, as some one says, that "a hundred years hence people will read it with the same interest.' But this has little to do with the immediate question, which is that this record of so much of his life reveals to us a far less impressive and dignified personality than that which in the reverential myths and legends of the gods of which Carlyle in his old age has been so long the subject -his generation has attributed to him. It is hard to contend against the evi

dence supplied by his own hand, and it will be very difficult to convince the world that we who think differently of him knew better than himself. Nevertheless, there will no doubt be many eager to undertake this forlorn hope, and vindicate the character he has aspersed.

It is scarcely possible that there should not be an outcry of derision at such an idea. Who, the reader will say, could know him so well as himself ?—which is unanswerable, yet a fallacy, so far as I can judge. No one has ever set a historical figure so vividly before us, with dauntless acceptance of its difficulties, and bold and strong presentment of an individual, be he the real Cromwell or Frederick or not, yet an actual and living Somebody not unworthy (if not perhaps too worthy) of the name. But in this latest work of all, where he has to deal not with historical figures but with those nearest and most dear to himself, I venture to think, with respect, that Carlyle has failed, not only in the drawing of himself (made in one sad and fevered mood) but also of those in whom he was most deeply interested and ought to have known best. Nothing can prove more curiously the inadequacy of personal impressions and highly-wrought feeling to reach that truth of portraiture which the hand of an unconcerned spectator will sometimes lightly attain. The only figure in this strange and unhappy book which has real life in it, and stands detached all round from the troubled background, is that of the man who was least to the writer of all the group, most unlike him, the vivacious, clear-headed, successful, and brilliant Jeffrey, a man in respect to whom there was no passionate feeling in his mind, neither love, nor compunction, nor indignant sympathy, nor tender self-identification. The sketch of James Carlyle, which for some time has been talked about in literary circles, with bated. breath, and which critics in general, confused and doubtful of their own opinion, have turned to as the one thing exquisite in these reminiscences, is after all not a portrait but a panegyric-a strange outpouring of love and grief, in which the writer seems half to chant his own funeral oration with that of his father, and enters into every particular