History of English Humour; with an Introduction upon Ancient Humour, Volume 1 of 2. By Rev A G L’Estrange, published 1878.

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Bookp(h)ile

Sir Walter Scott, by Richard H. Hutton. Part of the English Men of Letters series, edited by John Morley. Published 1878.

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Bookp(h)ile

The idea that the hair snakes come from hairs thrown into water, is much more universal than you may suppose. It was only the other day that a lady was talking with the Professor:

“You needn’t tell me that it isn’t so, because I’ve pulled hairs out of my own head and put them in water, and have seen them turn into snakes before my own eyes.”

What could a poor Professor say? For, of course, he didn’t believe her for a minute. She may have seen the hairs move with the motion of the water, and so made up her mind that they must have turned to snakes. You may feel very sure, however, that no hair put into water ever became a snake. In fact the so-called hair-snake is only a worm. You will find it at certain seasons of the year in small pools of water and even on wet or damp cabbages.

Examine one through a microscope and you will see that it has little rings around its long, slender body. It is what scientific books call an annulated worm.

There is one very strange thing about these creatures; they are never still, but constantly wriggling about. Neither do they stretch themselves to their full length when on the ground, but curl themselves up in some way or other.

You have seen an ordinary earth worm crawling into his hole, and have noticed that he pulls his body in almost a straight line; but when the hair worm creeps, his body is generally in the form of a semi-circle.

You remember the notices in the paper about a great “shower of snakes” in Memphis, Tenn., a year ago last winter. These were our hair worms; and, as they were found only in one place in the city, scientific men thought that the heavy storm must have blown and washed them from some neighboring pool or garden.

For such little fellows they seem to be just crowded with life, it being comparatively difficult to kill them when in water.–Christian Union.

A curious case of swindling has just been tried before the Correctional Tribunal of Paris, with the result that an adventuress, who passed herself off as the Princess of Reuss, has, in spite of the able advocacy of M. Lachaud, been sentenced to two years’ imprisonment. A few weeks ago, a “lady of distinguished appearance, very elegantly attired,” fell down, apparently in a fainting fit, at the St. Lazare Railway Terminus, and among the persons who hurried to her assistance was a retired servant, who had already been struck by the grace of her demeanor. When she came to, he asked permission to assist her to a hotel in the neighborhood, and sent for a doctor, being assured, in return, that he would have no reason to regret his kindness; “for,” added the lady, “I am the Princess of Reuss and shall not forget your goodness.” The Princess went on to explain that she had immense possessions in Germany, which, unfortunately, had been seized by Prince Bismarck, and that the worry to which she was subjected by the suit going on for their recovery, had so affected her that she was often overtaken by fainting-fits. “But,” she added, with touching condescension, “can I regret all this, since it has procured me the opportunity of meeting with such disinterested attention?” The retired servant was so completely won by this last phrase, that he begged the Princess to accept the loan of any money which she might require for temporary purposes; and it was not very long before the £400 which he had saved during long years of service, had been borrowed from him. After these had gone, and when the Princess still failed to receive the remittances she was expecting, he awoke to the possibility of his having been defrauded; and the inquiries which were instituted by the Police showed that the Princess of Reuss and a well-known swindler by the name of Perin were one and the same person. Justice has been satisfied by the sentence of two years’ imprisonment; but the retired servant will not, it is to be apprehended, recover his £400.–Pall Mall Gazette.

Manitoba Lake, which lies northwest of Fort Garry, has given a title to the Province formed out of the Red River region, derives its name from a small island, from which, in the stillness of night, issues a mysterious noise. On no account will the Ojibways approach or land on this island, supposing it to be the home of the Manitoba, the “Speaking God.” The cause of this curious sound is the beating of the waves on the “shingle,” or large pebbles lining the shores. Along the northern coast of the island there is a long, low cliff of fine-grained, compact lime stone, which, under the stroke of the hammer, clinks like steel. The waves beating on the shore at the foot of the cliff cause the falling fragments to rub against each other and to give out a sound resembling the chimes of distant church bells. The phenomenon occurs when the gales blow from the north, and then, as the winds subside, low, waiting sounds like whispering voices are heard in the air. Travelers assert that the effect is impressive, and that they have been awakened at night under the impression that they were listening to church bells.–Helena (Mont.) Independent.

In consequence of the increasing number of grave-yard desecrations, the genius of the inventor has been incited to devise means for their defeat. Among the most recent patents is one for a coffin torpedo, which consists of a canister containing powder, balls and a firing trigger, so arranged that, on placing the torpedo within the coffin, and finally closing the lid, should any attempt be made to open the coffin the torpedo will be instantly exploded, a noise like thunder ensue, and deadly balls will fly in all directions. Had the remains of the late millionaire, Mr. Steward, been protected by means of this invention, the neighborhood in that part of the city where his body rested would have been alarmed while the robbers themselves would doubtless have suffered sudden death as the penalty of the sacrilegious attempt.–Scientific American

Our Doctor flourished in an age when the pages of Magazines, were filled with voluntary contributions from men who had never aimed at dazzling the public, but came each with his scrap of information, or his humble question, or his hard problem, or his attempt in verse–

“A was an antiquary, and wrote articles upon Altars and Abbeys and Architecture. B made a blunder which C corrected. D demonstrated that E was in error, and that F was wrong in Philology, and neither Philosopher nor Physician though he affected to be both. G was a Genealogist. H was a Herald who helped him. I was an inquisitive inquirer, who found reason for suspecting J to be a Jesuit. M was a Mathematician. N noted the weather. O observed the stars. P was a poet, who produced pastorals, and prayed Mr. Urban to print them. Q came in the corner of the page with a query. E arrogated to himself the right of reprehending every one, who differed from him. S sighed and sued in song. T told an old tale, and when he was wrong U used to set him right; V was a virtuoso. W warred against Warburton. X excelled in Algebra. Y yearned for immortality in rhyme, and Z in his zeal was always in a puzzle.”

A correspondent of the New York Evening Post, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba, describes an old manuscript written in 1618 by one of the mutineers who sent Hendrick Hudson and eight of his crew adrift in an open boat. They were never heard of more, and for more than 200 years there has been much speculation as to their fate. The manuscript, written in a large, firm hand, consisted of ten slips of paper, apparently torn from a book and tied together for better preservation. It has been forwarded, together with other relics, to the office of the Hudson’s Bay Company in London. The writer, Louis Marin, thus tells the story of the mutiny:

“One night, when we were in great misery, stars fell from Heaven in countless numbers and we rejoiced to think for a time that the end of the word [sic] had come. Our Captain was gloomy all the time, and the men often cursed him in his hearing for bringing them to such a pass. Spring was very tardy in coming, but when the ice field broke up we thrush Hudson and the five blind sailors into the pinnace and told them to go ashore. We headed the ship out that night, and in the morning the pinnace had disappeared. I became afraid of the crew and of the ship, for every night at midnight the ghosts of the Captain and the five blind sailors came aboard and troubled us sorely. While I was at my prayers one night one of the ghosts told me to leave the ship, and when we touched the coast for water I ran away from it.”