The Brecon Reporter and South Wales General Advertiser

AGRICU LT URE. IN reply to a question in the Field whether horse chestnuts were suitable food for pigs, one correspon- dent replied, I beg to say that I have never been able to induce my pigs to eat horse-chestnuts. They alway s carefully reject them. If any means ofpreparation would make them acceptable I should like to know it. Deer are amazingly fond of them, and inBashey-park, when the nuts are falling, the sound of a nut falling invariably sends half a dozen deer full tilt to look for it." Another says: "In reply to your correspondent, allow me to add the following, taken from an article on the horse chestnut tree in the first number of Hardwicke's Science Gossip:' It is true that neither man, horses, nor pigs will eat horse chestnuts, but sheep, cows, and deer are ravenously eager for them.

Abortion or Slinking amongst Cattle. Mr. Lupton, in his clever Veterinarian," gives the following:— In answer to several correspondents, asking the cause and seeking the means by which to prevent abortion, it has been deemed advisable to write the following:— Abortion, or slinking, &c., is an accident occurring to pregnant stock, and may happen as the result of mechanical injury inflicted by blows upon themselves, or by the brutality of man, and through fright, occa- sioned by dogs or otherwise, or by sympathy; when the fact of one animal aborting produces a similar result to others that are pregnant and placed in the same yard or pastures. < Clater writes: The sense of smell in horned cattle is remarkably acute. I have known them on a warm day, in an open pasture, to collect in great numbers to a particular spot where some dead carcases had been buried several years, and, with their horns and feet, tear up the ground in a surprising manner, and shortly afterwards slink their calves;" therefore abortion is sometimes caused by means of some sym- pathetic action—by the smell of carrion which may have been exposed upon the pasture, or covered only slightly with earth. Hence has arisen the caution always dis- played by herdsmen in burying the prematurely-ex- pelled fcetus deeply in the ground, and of smearing the affected parts of the mother with agents of an offensive odour, to disguise the smell so noxious and injurious to the well-being of pregnant cows." That cows and other animals are more liable to abort at the latter eud of the summer and during the autumnal months is a fact; but that autumnal grasses and those grown on marshy lands cause abortion, as some assert, is not strictly correct: therefore, in order to prove the fact, the cause must be explained. The action of the ergot of rye (Secale comutum) upon the pregnant uterus is well known, and how rapidly after the administration the expulsion of the foetus occurs. The existence of this ergot upon rye- grass has been noticed by botanists, and its effects upon the uterus have been fully detailed by physiolo- gists but for its production it is necessary that the grass be in seed, when a humid climate will greatly tend to further its development, for this reason: fed grasses, where the stalks which the cattle have refused to eat during the spring and summer, throw out seeds upon which the ergot grows. This cattle eat, and to so great an extent as to produce abortion. If one case only occurs, and the remainder of the herd be removed from the cause, even then constantly, through the medium of imagination, the retfollow suit. This malady is common both to lean and fat stock; but more so to the latter, because plethoric animals are excitable and are rendered more amenable to the attacks of disease, and especially so, when pregnant, to uterine maladies. Whatever can become a source of general excitement or fever is likely during preg- nancy to produce inflammation of the womb; or what- ever would, under ordinary circumstances, excite in- flammation of any organ, has at this time its injurious effect determined to this particular spot. Preventive measures.-Remove stock from the influ. ence of cause, by keeping breeding eows, &c., upon land freefrom the seeds of rye grass. Professor Tanner writes: Grass which has been grazed upon during the summer will very generally, in a humid climate, have some ergotised seed; -but I have not noticed any produced before the end of July or early in August, and I doubt its existence to any injurious degree up to this time." The feeding, there- fore, or breeding stock on pastures that have been mown— by which operation the stalks have been cut down and carried away-is sufficient guarantee against any seeds remaining; and it seldom happens that, later in the season, any injury will result from the production of ergotised grass. Therefore, as shown above, abortion is more preva- lent during the summer and autumnal months, and on marshy land, because, first, the rye seeds must be out before the ergot can be formed upon them; and, secondly, their generation is favoured by moisture. Kemove the causes as above indicated, and never feed pregnant animals on fermenting food, such as grains, &c., or to excess. Administer mild purgatives to those in too high condition; and as other causes, viz., diseases of varied natures, may cause abortion, consult the nearest intelligent and qualified vete- rinarian, who will prescribe direct treatment.

4 A Parisian Cabby.—Drivers of hackney car- riages are often insolent when they have to deal with ladies unaccompanied by a gentleman, and the fol- lowing case illustrates the assertion :—Some few days sinee an actress of the Theatre Frangais took a coach to drive to It 'he theatre for a rehearsal, and asked the coachman for his number. "Madame," he replied, I only give my number to those who do not ask for it," and off he drove. On arriving at her journey's end, the lady alighted, and gave the driver 2fr. for his fare. And my drink money P" said he in an insolent tone. Oh! replied she, "I only give drink-money to people who do not ask for it." Saved from Drowning.—Mr. Gladstone, Chan- cellor of the Exchequer, left Osborne on Monday, en route for London, and embarking at Trinity-pier, Cowes, crossed in the Elfin steamer to Southampton Docks. Here, in order to land, it was necessary for him to enter a boat and row to the wharf; and while doing this a boy, who had occupied a small boat in the docks, by some means managed to overbalance himself and fall overboard into the water. The crew of the boat in which Mr. Gladstone was bad their attention called the accident, and they managed to reach the poor boy and rescue frisa.

FUNERAL ORATION BY VICTOR HUGO. At the interment of Miss Emily de Patron, which lately took place at the Foulon Cemetery, M. Victor Hugo pronounced the following oration over the grave:— Within a few weeks we have been occupied with two sisters—the one we have married, and now we are burying the other. Such is the perpetual agitation of life. Let us bow, my brethren, before inflexible destiny, and let us bow with hope. Our eyes are made to weep, but they are also made to see our heart is made to suffer, but it is also made to believe. Faith in another existence springs from the faculty of loving. Let us not forget that in this unquiet life, which is consoled by love, it is the heart which believes. The son hopes to find again his father, the mother will not consent to lose her child for ever. This revolt against annihilation is the grandeur of man. The heart can never err. The flesh is a dream which fades away! This trance were it the end of man, would take from our existence every sanction we cannot content ourselves with this vapour-which is mere matter—we must have certainty. Whoever loves knows and feels that the props of man are not upon the earth. To love is to live after life. Without this faith, no deep gift of the heart were possible. To love, which is the aim of man, would be his punishment. Paradise would be a hell. No!-be it declared aloud—the loving creature demands the immortal creature. The heart must have a soul. There is a heart in that coffin, and that heart lives. At this very moment it listens to my words. Emily de Putron was the gentle pride of a respectable and patriarchal family. Her friends and neighbours found enchantment in her grace, and pleasure in her smile. She was like a full-blown flower of joy in the house. From her birth every tenderness surrounded ber; she grew up happy, and in receiving happiness she gave it. She is gone. Whither is she gone?—into darkness ? No. It is we who are in darkness—she is in the dawning light. She is in the light, in the truth, in the reality, in the recompense. These early dead who have done no ill are the blessed of the grave, and and their heads rise gently from the tomb toward a mysterious crown. Emily de Putron is gone to seek high everlasting serenity-the complement of an innocent existence. Youth is gone to eternity, beauty towards the ideal, the pearl towards the ocean, a spirit towards its God. Go, soul! The marvel of this great celestial departure, which we call death, is that those who thus depart still remain near us. They are in a world of light, but they, as tender witnesses, hover about our world of darkness. They are over us and near us. Oh, whoever you may be who have seen a beloved being sink into a tomb, do not think that it has left you. It is always near. It is beside you more than ever. The beauty of death is its presence. Inexpressible presence of a soul which smiles upon our tearful eyes The being that we mourn has dis- appeared, but has not departed. We no longer sce its, gentle face—but we feel that we are beneath its wings. The dead are invisible, but they are not absent. Let us be just to death. Let us not be ungrateful to it. It is not, as has been said, a ruin and a snare. It is an error to think that here-in this darkness of the open grave, all is lost to us. Here everything is found again. The grave is a place of restitution: here the soul resumes the infinite; here it recovers its plenitude; here it re-enters on possession of all its mysterious nature; it is set free from the body, from want, from its burthen, from fatality. Death is the greatest of liberties; it is also the farthest progress. Death is a higher step for all who have lived upon the height. Dazzling md holy ascension! Every one receives hid increase. Everything is transfigured in the light and by the light. He who has been no more than virtuous on earth becomes beauteous; he who has only been beauteous becomes sublime; he who has only been sublime be- comes good. And now I, who am speaking, why am I here ? What brings me to this grave ? By what right do I address the dead ? Who am I ? Nothing! But I am wrong-I am something. I am a proscript. Yesterday exiled by violence—to-day a voluntary exile. A proscript is a vanquished, a calumniated, a persecuted man, a man wounded by fate, and disin- herited of his country; a proscript is an innocent man weighed down by a malediction. His blessing ought to have virtue in it. I bless this grave. I bless the noble and gracioue being that lies there. In the desert we find the oasis, in exile we meet with souls. Emily de Putron has been one of the lovely souls that we have met with. I come to pay ner the debt owing by a pro- script whom she has consoled. I bless her in the dark profound. In the name of the sorrows whereon she gently beamed, in the name of the trials of destiny which for her are ended, but which continue for us, in the name of terrestial things which once she hoped for, and of celestial things which she now obtains, in the name of all she loved, I bless this lifeless being. I bless her in her beauty, in her youth, in her innocence, in her life, and in her death; I bless her in her white sepulchral robe, in her home which she has left desolate, in her coffin which her mother has filled with flowers, and which God is about to fill with stars." The funeral service was performed in French by the Rev. Mr. Nicolle, Wesleyan minister, in the presence pf a large concourse of persons, whom the expectation of hearing the eloquent poet had attracted.

LIÈBIG ON A NEW EXTRACT OF BEEF. In an article in the Annalen d?r Chemie und Pharmacie for January, 1865, Baron Liebig describes a new extract of beef which is -being preparedjn large quantities in Uruguay for consumption in Europe, (The process for its preparation is given in vol. lxii. of the Annalen.) Since the introduction of 'this extract of flesh into the plarmacopceia, its great efficacy in cases of debility, indigestion, &c., has been repeatedly proved; and in order to give an idea of the extent to which it is used, it will be sufficient to state that nearly five thousand pounds of beef are yearly employed in the Court Dispensary for its preparation. A great part of this is sold retail (i.e., without a doctor's prescription) in the apothecaries' shops-an undoubted sign that it is employed for household purposes. Even very poor persons who have once experienced its beneficial effects, and who are very much disinclined to spend money on medicine, return to its use of their own accord in the event of illness, notwithstanding its present high price (2s. per ounce.) It is particularly valuable in hospitals, as by its means physicians can prescribe a soup of any required strength, perfectly free from fat. For several years its use has been strorigly recommended in the French army by Proust and Parmentier, the latter of whom says ""Dis- solved in a glass of wine, it is a powerful restora- tive, rendering severely wounded soldiers, however weakened by loss of blood, capable of bearing removal to the nearest field hospital." One pound of the' ex- tract, boiled with some bread, potatoes, and salt, will make sufficient soup for 128 soldiers, and not inferior in strength to that obtained from the best hotels. In fortresses and at sea, where the men are confined to salted and smoked meat, it is the only means of sup- plying the important ingredients which meat is de- prived of in the process of salting. "For the last fifteen years," says Baron Liebig, I have continually directed the attention of residents in Buenos Ayres and Australia to its preparation, but it is only recently that my efforts have had any sure prospect of rea- lisation. In 1862 I received a visit from Herr Gie. bert, an engineer of Hamburg,, who had spent many years in South America and Uruguay, where hundreds of thousand?, of sheep and oxen are killed solely for the hides and fat. He told me that directly he saw my account of the preparation, of this extract he came to Munich with the intention of learning the 'I process, and then returning to South America in order to undertake its. manufacture on a large scale. I therefore recommended Herr Giebert to Professor Pettenkofer, who willingly made him familiar with every detail of the process. He then returned to Uruguay in the summer of 1863, tat, owing to the many difficulties which generally hinder "the intro- duction and management of a new business, it was almost a year before he could actually commence the manufacture. Herr Giebert requested permission to call the extract by my name, which I granted; telling him, however, beforehand, that if it contained the least trace of fat, which causes it to become rancid, or the gluey substance which the ordinary solid broth or consommd contains, which predis- poses it to become mouldy, and entirely deprives the product of the unalterabilitv of the pure extract, I should be tho- first to publicly assert its inferiority. In return, Dr. Pettenkofer and myself promised to submit each sample to analysis free of cost, and if found genuine to testify to the fact, on condition that he would bring it into commerce at not more than a third of its present price. This arrangement of course relates only to the commencement of the importation, as the testimony of chemists will be no longer neces- sary when the public are once acquainted with the characteristics of the pure extract. Herr Giebert proposes to produce from five to six thoueand pounds per month. Tha first sample, of about eighty pounds' extract from b£!Jf and thirty pounds from mutton, arrived a few days ago in Munich; and we have the satisfaction of being able to say that, for a product from the flesh of half wild animals, its quality is ex. cellent; and we believe that the other condition-i.e., the price-will also meet our expectations. "-Lancet.

THE NEW" SENSATION A Clown Burning his Stage Dresses. From time to time, says the Sheffield Independent, during the past few months the inhabitants of Sheffield have been startled with a series of sensation announce- ments, concerning the services of the Hallelujah Band, at the Temperance-hall. "Convicted felons, prize fighters, pigeon stealers, dog fighters, wife beaters, poachers, &c. &,C. have been announced to give their experience," and the result of the extra- ordinary concentration of talent, or rather character, has been crowded houses. Last week the walls were placarded with the announcement that "Harvey Teasdale," the converted clown, would publicly destroy his stage dresses, the manuscript plays and music, and his pantomime tricks and books. To meet the ex- penses connected with this "extraordinary engage- ment," charges were made for admission, but notwith- standing this, the hall was crowded to excess in every part. The gallery was filled with an audience strongly reminding one of the "gods" of a cheap theatre, while in the body were to be found very many who had seen Harvey Teasdale as the "Man Monkey," and who were anxious to see his disposal of the character and its appurtenances. The business of the evening— it can be hardly called a service—commenced by a hynm sung with extraordinary gusto by the large audience, the refrain being the favourite part, and, as such, was subjected to frequent repetition. Prayer by a member of the band followed, and upon the chairman announcing an address by another member, great uproar and cries for" Harvey" followed. After silence was procured, the address was giving, but was listened to very impatiently. At its conclusion Harvey Teasd&le came to the front of the platform, and was greeted with loud cheers, and those peculiar whistles and calls which must have been familiar to him in his theatrical days. These, however, were stopped by one of the leaders announcing that that was a "religious service"—a fact that could hardly have been known unless it was stated. Teasdale came forward and produced a bag containing his properties." He announced that Mr. Edward Lauri, clown at the Surrey Theatre, had kindly consented to be present and see that all were destroyed, and that the property and books were real—and this statement appeared to be very satisfac- tory to the audience, who greeted Mr. Lauri with a hearty cheer. The work of demolition then com- menced, Teasdale producing a dress which he said be- longed to the Dumb Man of Manchester," and hand- ing it over to 'the brethren behind, who, with large shears and knives, quickly destroyed it. The dresses of Scaramouch, and the other favourite c-haracters of Teasdale, shared the same fate, while the motley garb of the clown, with the cap which had gone through the clock face for the last time," were speedily reduced to shreds. The manuscript plays followed. Mr. Lauri explained his presence that night by stating that all the pieces had been offered to him for X2 10s., but that they had then been refused to him. He was in Leeds that afternoon, and there he heard that Teasdale had destroyed the same things there, and so he had come down to see. This statement created some laughter, and provoked from Teasdale the remark that he had enemies in Leeds. The last property to be destroyed was "the monkey," and the audience were requested "not to be frightened," although it was "very hideous." A large stuffed figure was then brought on. It was the monkey dress of Teasdale stuffed with shavings "to give the people an idea of Harvey Teasdale as he was," and no sooner was it brought upon the platform than it was seized and literally dragged to pieces by the enthusiastic band amid great uproar mingled with shouts of Hallelujah." This concluded the principal part of the business, and a hymn was given out. The attempt to sing was, however, a failure, and it was abandoned at the end of the first verse. An addiess of an unusually florid and frantic style from a con- verted prizefighter and nigger minstrel followed, after which the musical disposition of the audience was again tested, and this time with greater success. Various other addresses and hymns followed, and the proceedings, which were of the most extraordinary character, and beggared description, were concluded about ten o'clock..

SURVIVORSHIP: CURIOUS POINTS OF LAW. In 1806 Mr. Mason and one son were drowned at sea; his remaining eight children went to law, some of them against the others; because if the father died before the son X5,000 would be divided equally among the other eight children, whereas if the son died before the father the brothers only would get it, the sisters being shut out. A few years afterwards Job Taylor and his wife were lost in a ship wrecked at sea; they had not much to leave behind them, but what little there was was made less by the struggles of two sets of relatives, each striving to show that one or other of the two hapless persons might possibly have survived the other by a few minutes. In 1819 Major Colclough, his wife, and four children were drowned during a voyage from Bristol to Cork; the husband and wife had both made wills, and there arose a pretty picking for the lawyers in relation to survivorships and next-of- kin, and trying to prove whether the husband died first, the wife first, or both together. Two brothers, James and Charles Corbet, left Demerara OH a certain d^y in 1828, in a vessel of which one was master and the other mate; the vessel was seen five days afterwards, but from that time no news of her fate was ever re- ceived. Their father died about a month after the vessel was last seen. The ultimate disposal of his property depended very much on the question whether he survived his two sons, or they survived him. Many curious arguments were used in court. Two or three captains stated that from August to January are hur- ricane months in the West Indian seas, and that the ship was very likely to have been wrecked quite early in her voyage. There were, in addition, certain rela- tives interested in James's dying before Charles, and they urged that; if the ship was wrecked, Charles was 'likely to have outlived by a little space his brother James, because he was a stronger and moreexperienced man. Alas for the "glorious un- certainty!" One bigwig decided that the sons survived tjie father, 'and another that the father survived the sons. About the beginning of the present reign three persons—father, mother, and child—were drowned on a voyage from Dublin to Quebec; the husband had made a will, leaving all his property to his wife; hence arose a contest between the next-of-kin and the wife's relations, each catching at any small fact that would (theoretically) keep one poor soul alive a few minutes longer than the other. About ten years ago a gentle- man embarked with his wife and three children for Australia; the ship was lost soon after leaving England.. The mate, the only person who was saved among the whole of the crew and passengers, deposed that he saw the hapless husband' aiid wife locked in each other's arms at the moment when the waves closed over them. There would seem to be no ques- tion of survivorship here; yet a question really arose, for there were two wills to be proved, the terms of which would render the relatives much interested in knowing whether husband or wife did really survive the other by ever so small a portion of time.—" All the Tear Round."

♦- ;• Long Memories.-The following is a remarkable instance of the extent to which the joint memory of two individual may bridge over a wide chasm of his- tory. There is now living at Edinburgh, and in pos- session ol all his faculties, a gentleman whose father served on Charles Edward's staff at Culloden, and was actually left for dead on the battle-field. This gen- tleman has been my frequent correspondent, and, for anything to the contrary, my children may write to him as correspondents, and converse with him about the Stuarts, and hear from his lips long and curious tales, as I have done, about the Lovatg, Derwent- waters, and Macdonells of the last century. If some of my children should live, as, according to an actuary's expectancy of life, they very probably may live, to see the year 1920, then a single individual will have handed to a person living twenty years into the twentieth century, events which he heard direct from the lips of an officer who fought at Culloden, and who had to fly the kingdom for so doing, a price, I believe, having been put upon his head by the Govern- ment of this day.—Once a week.

Professor Punch's Dream-book. LUCKY DREAMS. To dream of nothing is lucky. To dream that you have written all Mr. Tapper's works (and on waking to find you haven't) is very lucky. To dream, only to dream, that you've committed a, capital crime, is lucky-for you.

UNLUCKY DREAMS. To dream that, in a fearful shipwreck, you have been hurled upon a sharp rock, and to awake to a sense of your position on the floor, is unlucky. To dream of goblins, villains of the deepest dye, assassins, daggers, and such things as utterly destroy your rest, is decidedly unlucky. To keep on dreaming and awaking five times in a night is unlucky. To dream that you are fighting for your life with wild bears, and to find yourself hitting your wife on the head with a bolster, is unlucky, very unlucky. To dream that you are making a long and powerful address to a jury and to deliver the same orato:ically, is unlucky for any one who happens to be in the -ame room trying to go to sleep.

SIGNS. To dream that you are in a land ef golden apples and silver roses, with jewels and diamonds sparkling on the trees, and that yon are dancing with a fairy- like being, whose face you think is not quite un- familiar to you, is a sign that you've probably seen the Transformation Scene of a Pantomime. To dream that some one has given you two handred million billion thousand pounds, seven shillings and sixpence halfpenny, is a very good sign that you are dreaming. To dream that you are being tried for something or other, what it is nobody in court, including the judge, seems to know, and that you are about to be hnxig for it, whatever it is (at which point you awake with a start), is a pretty good sign that you've lately been reading the Old Bailey and police reports. To dream that you were sitting in a room which is very like your own drawing-room, only not exactly it, and there met your cousin Tom, only it wasn't quite your cousin Tom, but rather taller, or paler, or younger, and that he suddenly seemed to jump up in the air. and point all at the same mo- ment to a black monkey, at least something like a monkey, only with a lion's tail, climbing up the bell- rope, which appeared to be hanging from the centre of the ceiling, and that, all at once, you found yourself in a large open square with a box of sardines and a trombone, which you wanted to clean, but couldn't, on account of the cobbler's wax in the mouth-piece, and that, somehow, the trombone became vour cousin Tom again, who insisted upon your swallowing a box of gelatine lozenges, because they were iced on pmrpose for you, and that then some one, coming from some- where, asked you to get inside, and you don't know how it was, but you found yourself in a cab, when, just as the driver banged the door, you awoke--to have dreamt all this, is a sign that you've muddled up a jolly lot of things in your head, and it is to be hoped you are rather clearer when awake. To dream that you are condemned by the Inquisi- tion, and that heavy weights are being placed, by way of torture, on your chest, is a sign that you've proba- bly gone to bed directly after supping on cold boiled pork. To dream that you are going rapidly from the top to the bottom of a lofty flight of stairs, without any legs under you, is a sign that you require a little medicine. To dream anything is a sure sign that you are asleep.

The Beef-Eater's Lament. It's a subject of dissatisfaction, Won't our graziers afford us relief ? I'm afraid it's all up with old England, We're very near out of roast beef. The hunters of buffalo bullocks That range Monte Videan plains, Say, Come, let us kill, dry, and salt you, We'll import you at threepence a pound. Fat bullocks in England won't matter, Fat or lean we shan't very much care;, If our blue-aproned butcher won't serve us There's the cheap South American fare. The food of a nation's important, Should be plentiful, wholesome, and good; But in rearing and breeding our bullocks I'm not sure we've done all that we could. The glories of Joes, Toms, or Harrys, I weep when I think of your fate; The gridiron rusty and tarnished, No fire in the once frizzling grate. It's a subject of dissatisfaction, Won't our graziers afford us relief ? I'm afraid it's all up with old England, We're very near out of roast beef.

Internal Utility. The following advertisement appeared the other morning in a Dublin newspaper:— pROOM AND COACHMAN, a smart, active vj young Man, who understands his biasiness; has a first- rate knowledge of the care and treatment of horses, car- riages and harness; is a careful, steady driver; will mate himself useful inside, if required. "Will make himself useful inside, if required!" In what way is this usefulness, we wonder, to be ex- ercised ? A doctor's groom might make himself useful inside by swallowing his master's medicines for experi- ment. We own we should not like, were we a body servant, to have our body thus employed; but to these base uses we might come, Horatio, to keep ourselves from the necessity of going to the workhouse. Still, we cannot understand how a coachman is to show his utility inside, unless he means to hint that if his master likes to drive, he will sit inside the carriage and entertain the ladies.

Latest Intelligence. a THE lady who sunk all her capital in railways is anxious to obtain a loop line to recover it with. She may fish for it. THE gentleman who borrowed an oyster knife to open an account at his banker s with, is anxious to meet with a patent corkscrew to draw a cheque with. THE person who let fall a remark about his friend has taken up an observation made by a third party, and the law will be called in to decide the question of ownership.. The young heir who fell out with his father has dropped upon^ snug thing, and is therefore likely to be taken up again by his relatives. THE lady who broke off a match with her cousin because he would not' cqme to the scratch, has got another flame.

BEEF AT 3D. PER POUND.—To Correspondents.— Jerked beef goes farther than butoher's beef. A butcher's boy, however, would not be able to jerk a stone of beef as far as a pebble. CONSIDERATE REWARD TO A NOELEMAN FOR BRINGING ONE A FINE TRANSLATION OF THE Riad.-Sendiiig him home to translate the Odyssey. (With Mr. Punch's compliments to the Edinburgh Bevievj.)' WHEN is a cat like a teapot P-When your tea's-in it. UNITY is strength" has been proved to be a fallacy by the directors of the Unity Bank. A RECENT TELEGRAM —" Shanghai, Dec. 9. Grey shirtings unchanged."—What dirty people they must be in China! CLERICAL TASTE.-Churchbelles.

— Blockade Running.- It is computed that in 1862, 1863, and 1864 no fewer than 111 swift steamers were built on the Clyde for the purpose of running the blockade of the Confederate ports. Of the whole 111 steamers 70 have been either captured or destroyed, leaving at the close of 1864 29 still running, while 11 were on their way out. The number running at the close of 1864 was larger than at any previous period in the annals of the blockade, showing that it does not increase in efficiency or severity. The average number of trips made by a blockade-runner does not, however., exceed five, so that enormous profits must be realised. per voyage to make this peculiar branch of adventure at all remunerative. Most of the blockade-runners captured by the Federals became blockade watchers, in which capacity they prove very serviceable. It may be added that, notwithstanding the large number of blockade-runners captured or destroyed, more new steamers were. built on the Clyde in 1864 to supply their places than in either 1863 or 1862, but the capture ef Fort Fisher pats an end to the trade.