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MISCELLANEOUS.

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Rhannu

MISCELLANEOUS. CRAMMING. The absurdities committed by boys and girls who are crammed with undigested knowledge at our elementary schools yield a rich store of anec- dotes. In the course of an examination in grammar, a Surrey inspector was the privileged recipient of some startling information. The parents of the children were mostly agricultural labourers. The examiner was dealing with grammatical diminutives," and particularly with the force of the suffix kin-e.g., mannikin, a little man &e. On his asking the lads to give him a few examples one lad answered, 11 Lambkin, a little lamb." Very good indeed," said the inspector, and pointed to another lad. "Tomkin, a little Tom," was the answer. The gentleman somewhat demurred at this, but finally accepted it. He then pointed to a third boy. "Buskin, a little 'bus!" was the response. The inspector's countenance fell. "Now, my lads," he remonstrated, do take time to think before you speak. The last answer was altogether wrong." And he pointed to a little yokel behind who, in his desperate eagerness to catch the inspector's eye, had ventured to half mount upon the form. "Well, you, my lad?" said the inspector, pointing at last to this young hopeful. "Pumpkin, sir, a little pump! THE DOCTORED FIDDLE. Ester Jones, who has learned to play tolerably, and wants a better fiddle. Then the fun begins, and the game is p!ayed as follows- DeaJer-" Good day, sir." Jones—"Good day. I want to look at a few violins." Dealer-" Yes, sir; abuiit what price, air Jones-" Well, I oUsht to get a good violin for Rio. Dealer-" Then I think I can suit you, sir. Here is a genuine Coltz for E9 and this is a Fendt, Ell; this Colin Mezzin I can sell for £7 and here is a fine old English fiddle, name un- known, price RIO." Jones tries the violins one after the other hesitatingly, while the dealer looks about the shop for others likely to tempt his customer. Jones meanwhile keeps his eyes open to try to pick up a bargain. The dealer in his search, apparently by accident, opens a case, and discloses for a moment the doctored, dishonest fiddle. Jones-" Hullo What fiddle is that ?" Dealer (closing the case)-" Oh, that violin is one I don't want to part with but here is a guaranteed Nicolas in first-rate condition, and-" Jones' (growing interested in the dishonest fiddle)-" Yes, yes but may I look at that violin in the case ?" Dealer-" Certainly, air I don't want to sell it, because 1 am not quite sure of its value, and I don't want to throw money away." The dishonest fiddle is very tenderly unwrapped and lifted out of its case. The dealer tunes it, and runs a bow over it, Jones growing more and more interested. Dealer-" Not a powerful fiddle, sir, but rich and soft with age." Jones (who knows just enough about fiddles to think he knows a lot, and who has learned to recognise a full tone)—" Yes, beautifully mellow How did you get it 1" Dealer-" I bought it from a customer who was in difficulties and wanted the money. He had seen better days, and used to pick up fiddles. He was very fond of this one." Jones—" Do you know the maker ?" Dealer-" Not for certain, but I showed it to a professional gentleman, Herr Pollywoski, and he believed it was by Andreas Amati, father of Hieronymus. I am going to take it up to Lon- don next week to find out its real value." Jones (who has meanwhile been reverentially handling the dishonest fiddle, and has espied a fragment of a label inside— easAm .—and is trying to keep calni)-" Do you feel inclined to take an offer for it 1" Dealer- Well, sir, as I said, I really don't care to part with it there may be a treasure in it. At any rate, I would not take less than 220 for it." Jones thinks to himself that here is a chance that may never come again An Amati, and at such a low figure The dealer cannot guarantee it; of course not he would not sell it under £100 if he could. Why should not he, Jones, buy it if he can get it? He is pretty safe, for whether a real Amati or not, it must be a good fiddle, for it is so very old. Visiom of himself as triumphant owner of an Amati, picked up so cutely, too, flit before the mind's eye, and warp all his common sense. 220 will mean desperate economy to him for the next three months, but what of that ? To own an Amati will make up for all. Shall he chance it ? He hesitates and is lost. He buys the fiddle cash down the dealer lets him have it with regret, and laughs in his sleeve as he pockets the cash. Jones is in the seventh heaven of delight he scrapes day and night he studies the history of the elder Amati he feels six inches taller. A fortnight afterwards he goes to London on business and takes his Amati with him. He shows it anxiously to Hill, who at once pro- nounces it a clever fraud, worth four or five pounds. Tragic despair of Jones. "PIN MONEY." Pins were introduced into England by Cather- ine, first wife of Henry VIII., and, as then made, were ornaments rather than articles of utility. They were of brass, ivory, silver, or gold, were placed in the hair or on various parts of the cloth- ing as articles of jewellery, and sometimes weighed eight or ten ounces. The Spanish makers were allowed to sell them only during the Christmas holidays, and it became the fashion for a gentleman, at holiday seasons, to present the ladies of bis family with money to buy pins. From the great cost only the wealthy could at first afford to buy them, and even after the pins had become common and cheap, the practice of giving the money continued, and hence the name. WINELESS DINNERS Remind me of an incident recently recorded somewhere of one of our living Bishcps, well known for his good sense and rare wit. He was staying at the house of a county gentleman who posed as an ardent total abstainer. During dinner on the first day of the Bishop's visit, there being nothing to drink on the table besides syrups and mineral waters, the host, turning towards his reverend guest, said in an undertone "My Lord, you will find some wine in your bedroom." The Bishop, with characteristic taste, briefly acknowledged this curious concession, and partook of the refresh- ment placed before him. Some short while after this, the Bishop received his teetotaler friend with becoming hospitality at the Palace on a return visit. During dinner, his Lordship quietly remarked to his guest Mr So-and-So, you will find some water in your bedroom." DRINK PORT. An old English gentleman who had risen from the ranks, and, after making his fortune, bad retired, fell ill, and summoned a doctor. The doctor was a great imitator of Abernethy, and cultivated an aspect of uncouth honesty. I shall give no medicine," he said. You're killing yourself with so much beer give it up. Drink port. Walk or ride, but don't hang about the house in this idle way. No more beer-dridk port. I'll call again in a month." And away went the doctor. At the appointed time he returned. The patient was much better, and grateful, but grumbled at the expense to which his cure had put him. "I can't stand it. Look thee—it's downright ruination—nothin' less. You'll find me in the workus if things go on i' this way." The doctor cried-" Nonsense! A wealthy man like you. How much do you drink ? The old man answered, in perfect simplicity of heart— About the same as I used to drink o' beer-two or three gallin a day." AS FINE AS SILK. As fine as silk is a phrase to typify extreme fineness or delicacy of texture. But if you want a simile that will discount that one say, As fine as a spider's web. There is nothing of textile kind so fine as that. The strand spun by a spider is as much smaller than a thread of silk as the latter is smaller than a telegraph pole. This seems like an exaggeration when you casually look at the spider's workmanship and then at the silkworm's. But you never saw a single strand in the spider's thread. The strands are so fine that you couldn't see them with the naked eye. What you really see when you look at the spider's delicate thread is a cable composed of thouands of strands, and the way the little animal makes this cable is one of nature's greatest wonders. If you look closely at a spider during its busi- ness hours you will see that its thread comes from a circular spot near the extremity. In this spot are from four to six knobs, the number depending upon the kind of spider. If you happen to have a particularly good pair of eyes you can distinguish these knobs. Each of the knobs is full of minute holes, so small that a good microscope is necessary in order to see them. Through these holes the delicate strands are spun. About an eighth of an inch from the holes the strands are joined together, and the result is the spider's thread, with which all of us are so familiar. And the little spinner attends to business as closely and as carefully as does the weaver of the finest silk fabric. It has on each foot three claws, one of which is a sort of thumb, while the others are toothed like a comb. These claws are constantly used to help to keep the strands from tangling before they are joined in the thread. The material from which the thread is made is secreted in the animal's body. It is a glutinous substance, and the strands dry while they are passing from the little apertures to the point where they are joined together. One authority on this subject, Reaumur, calcu- lated that it would take 1,000 spider strands to occupy a space equal to the point of a needle, while another, Leuwenweck, estimated that it would take 4,000,000 of them to make a thread as large as a hair. A LETrER ARRIVING AFTER MANY YEARS. Mr Groves, one of the oldest officials of the County Court in Birmingham city, received on Friday week a letter which had been addressed to him and posted at Stafford in the month of July, 1856. The letter bears the stamp mark made at the Stafford Post Office in that month, and the Birmingham post mark of February 6, 1891. How or where this letter has so long re- mained has not yet been ascertained. The pro- bability is that it has turned up amongst odds and ends that have just been brought to light pre- paratory to the transfer of the General Post Office to the newly erected premises. A WELL WORTH SEEING. One of the most copious springs in Great Britain is the famed St. Winifred's Well, near the town of Holywell, in Flintshire. The well is an oblong square, about twelve feet by seven, and its water, say the people of the district, has never been known to freeze. This latter assertion may be true, as besides containing a fair per- centage of mineral matters that lower its freezing point, the well is inside a beautiful chapel, whiJh was erected over it by Queen Margaret, the mother of Henry VII. The water thrown up is not less than eighty-four hogsheads every minute, and the quantity appears to vary very little either in drought or after the greatest rain, showing doubtless that its primitive sources are numerous and widely distributed. St. Winifred's has been the object of many pilgrimages. FRENCH SYSTEM OF IDENTIFYING CRIMINALS. Probably most people are aware that the Bertilloa anthropometric system (mentioned on Monday in the House of Commons) of measuring prisoners as a means of easily procuring their future identification is based upon the proved fact that while no two human beings are exactly alike, the individual in several respects, when his growth is fixed and determined, never varies. A man's face may change, and his whole appear- ance, but leaving accidents out of account, his eyes will always be the same distance apart, his ears the same size and in the same relative position to other features, his height will not vary, his eyes will be of the same exact pro- portions, his thumbs, fingers, and toes will have the same special peculiarities, and so on. By carefully recording all the facts and measurements on small cards, and sorting these cards carefully into divisions and subdivisions, and innumerable subdivisions again, any prisoner, who would not be otherwise recognised, even by a photograph, but who happens to be an old hand, can be unerringly identified by means of these measure- ment cards in a very few minutes. This is the system which has worked so surprisingly well in many important criminal cases in France, and which Mr Parker Smith recommended the Home Secretary to adopt on Monday night. For some occult reason impossible to fathom, though possibly it is due to nothing more serious than the innate hostility of every true Briton to French perfection, the British police do not approve of the Bertillon system, but Mr Matthews has at all events promised to adopt it in part. The police are authorised to measure their prisoners, but, as the right hon. gentleman pointed out, our police have not the same power as those in France—that is to say, they cannot strip an unconvicted prisoner to ascertain if he has any marks upon his body which may help future identification. DRUNK, BY JOVE." Doctor Fordyce (observes a contemporary) sometimes drank a good deal at dinner. He was summoned one evening to see a lady patient, when he was more than half seas over, and con- scious that he was so. Feeling her pulse, and finding himself unable to count its beats, he muttered, Drunk, by Jove Next morning, recollecting the circumstances, he was greatly vexed, and, just as he was thinking what explanation of his behaviour he should offer to the lady, a letter from her was put into his hand. "She too well knew," said the letter, "that he had discovered the unfortunate condition in which she was when he last visited her and she entreated him to keep the matter secret, in con- sideration of the enclosed (a hundred pound bank note.") HARD TO PLEASE. An old beggar called at the house of a lady and begged for a pair of shoes. She gave him a nearly new pair of her husband's which he had laid aside for some reason. A day er two after- wards the beggar returned. "Mum," he said, can't you give me a pair of shoes some old ragged Qnes." "But," said the lady, "I have just given you an entirely new pair you have them on now." Yesm," he said, but there's the trouble. They're S3 new, ye see, that they hurt my business TO THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD. Your foot is the tiniest that trips, love, Tbro' the maddening maze of the waltz, Two blossoming buds are your lips, love, Your eyes say your heart is not false. I Your hands are fo dainty and white, love, Your figure so wondrously fine, That I'm tempted almost, but not quite, love, To say I adore you !—be mine! But no there's a frightening fear, love, That will not allow me to speak, You're spending six hundred a year, love, I'm getting two sovereigns a week. CLEANLINESS IN BUTTER-MAKING. Cleanliness is cel tainly the very foundation for a good grade of butter. Much is said regarding the manner of setting the milk, of the best styles of churns, the breeds of cows employed, and the proper degree of granulation, &c. While such matters are, however, important to the making of good butter, they are all of no avail without cleanliness. By good butter is not meant simply butter that is not strong or free from any distinctly unpleasant taste. There is a rich, delicate flavour in pure, untainted cream that will be transmitted to the butter if no foreign odour or substance be introduced. And it should be known by every person making butter that milk and cream very quickly absorb all pre- vailing odour or flavours with which they may come in contact. It is not sufficient even to be fastidiously clean-no food which has a distinct odour should be placed in the same room with milk or cream. Many a housewife wonders what it is that causes a peculiar taste to her butter, or why it is that her neighbour's butter makes a better price than her own. Now, I will ask this puzzled butter-maker a few questions: Does the milk come from the barn covered with specks of filth and dirt, dropped during milking, from the poorly-bedded and unbrushed cows? If so, do you strain the milk through the coarse tin strainer only ? Does sour milk and sediment accumulate in the fine seams of the milk pans or cans ? Are your milk vessels washed in doubtful water and used without being scalded 1 Is your dairy poorly ventilatej 7 Is food with strong odours, such as fish, vegetables, and meat, placed anywhere near the milk ? In order to make good butter, all these details must be strictly attended to. If they are not it is impossible to secure sweet, finely flavoured butter, such as many consumers are willing to pay an extra price to obtain. Many a farmer's family would enjoy an increased income if, instead of producing an indifferent grade of butter, selling it to the grocer at the maiket rates, they took the pains to make a fine quality which would realise for (hem a better price. THE BURNING AND BURIAL OF REGI- MENTAL COLOURS. The destruction by fire of the colours of the 1st Battalion South Lancashire Regiment at the officers' mess, Fort Regent, Jersey, recalls the variety of fates which have befallen the colours of British Regiments. At the fire of the Tower of London in 1841, the retired colours of several line and militia regiments were destroyed but very rarely has a case occurred of the accidental loss by fire of regimental colours still in use. The first and only colours of the old 2nd Battalion 8th King's, which had accompanied the regiment on active service in the Walcheren Expedition and American War were, on the reduction of the battalion at Portsmouth in 1815, solemnly burned in the presence of Lieutenant "Colonel James Ogilvie and the other officers. When the present 2nd Battalion Highland Light Infantry, then the 74th Highlanders, were presented with new colours at Fermoy on the 6th of April, 1818, the old tattered ones, which had waved over the regiment in many a hard fought field in India and the Peninsula, were burned, and the ashes deposited in the lid of a gold sarcophagus snuff box, inlaid with part of the wood of the colour poles, on which a suitable inscription was engraved. The burying of colours is, however, quite another matter, and if reverently carried out is an honourable and graceful termination of a life of active service. An instance in point occurred on the 31st of May, 1763, at Newcastle- upon-Tyne, when the 25th Edinburgh Regiment, commanded by Lord George Lennox, now the King's Own Scottish Borderers, buried with military honours their old colours, which were worn out from length of service. They had been in use for twenty years, and had been in the battles of Fontenoy, Culloden, Roncoux Val, Minden, Warbourg, Campen, Fellinghausen, and Wilhelmsthal. The commander was very anry at the burning of the colours of the 8th, as they were in use at the time, and this constituted an affront to the army. DR. GORDON STABLES DEFENDING CARAVAN LIFE. Dr Gordon Stables says :—As a medical man and a traveller," perhaps you will permit me to say a few words anent The Movable Dwellings Bill." I have been on the road in my well-known caravan, the Wanderer," for six years in spring, summer, and autumn, and have travelled all over England and Scotland in the most enjoyable of summer, and autumn, and have travelled all over England and Scotland in the most enjoyable of all methods of touring. In that time I have been or course, me aowamate with scores of caravan people, and know them to be honest, frugal, and industrious, and, I must add, civil. As I never come back from a tour without a book or a store of literary matter, anyhow, I have made travellers rather a study. What I do not know about them is not worth knowing. I never bivouac in towns, but in lonely places, and I feel myself far safer at night among caravans than rustic cottages. As to their children, they delight to place them for- ward and many whom I have known were far ahead of the rustic or city gutter-snipe. Travel- ling by caravan is, indeed, an education in itself, and one a few months of which would do the children of the rich a vast deal of good. Caravans are nearly always natty and clean and pretty. The very fact of the traveller being always wandering in Nature's highways and byeways gives a taste for the beautiful that nothing else could engender. And, God knows, gipsy children respect their parenti far more than society children do. If this abominable bill becomes law, I shall willingly register like the rest. Domiciliary visits I shall resist—my dogs and I— and shall treat any one as a highwayman who dares to put foot on my carriage without my permission. QUEER FUNERAL CEREMONIES. The funeral ceremonies of the Maories are peculiar. On the death of any member of a tribe the tribe holds a tangi, i.e., a wailing over the corpse, and then it is taken away by men specially deputed for the purpose, and buried in the earth. Twelve months after it is exhumed, and the bones carefully scraped clean and then they are deposited in some cavern or fissure in the rocks, and left for good. During all this time the spirit of the dead is supposed to be roaming about, unwilling to depart for Cape Reinga (a spot held by Maories to be sacred) until all has been completely done that has to be done with his remains. A SMOKER'S VALENTINE. By R. BAYNE. Two maidens I love; both are pretty, And each is bewitchingly fond- There's Minnie, the dark-eyed and wittj, And Alice, the beautiful blonde. I feel that my fate is to marry, But which of the two I can't say; It worries me sadly to tarry, I long for the jubilant day. I would that some good-natured fairy Would help me the riddle to read; I'd not act for a moment centrary, But hurry to hasten the deed. I'd forgotten—'tis Valentine's morning St. Valentine, list to my prayer; Nor spurn a poor mortal with scorning Who's just on the verge of despair. The postman! I'm shaking! How stupid! Two packets are handed me now I know this handwriting, by Cupid 'Tis from my sweet Minnie, I vow. What's this the darling has sent ne ? Some gloves and some perfume; how nice. Sure nothing will ever content me But to go and propose in a trice. r., A moment I'll tarry with pleasure To see what the other has brought. From Alice, by Jove! what a treasure- I A pipe of luxurious sort! Ab, Alice, I own you have bought me; St. Valentine has heard my prayer. With my pipe and the darling who's caught me I'll love, smoke, and laugh away care. J I

W HATE LEY'S "WHAT NOTS,"I…

CARMARTHEN CO (TNTY COURT.

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A DAY AT LLANGADOCK WITH THE…

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