The Atlantic Monthly, March, 1862. Number 53. Be sure to see A Raft That No Man Made.

Dr. Schliemann has just deposited in the British Museum a dagger believed to be made of meteoric steel and exhumed by him in the royal palace of Troy. This is the first iron discovered by him in his excavations, either in the Troad or the Peloponesus, and is of the very greatest archaeological interest.

The [Rutland (Vt.) Herald][] relates a remarkable instance of telegraphing under difficulties, that occurred on Monday last. A train on the Bennington and Rutland Railroad had got stuck fast in a snow bank three-quarters of a mile from Shaftsbury, and could neither proceed nor back out. There was no means of telegraphing for assistance, and but for the opportune presence of Mr. John M. Hills, a telegraph operator who was on board, the dilemma would have been an unpleasant one. At his suggestion a messenger was despatched to Shaftsbury for a piece of wire. This obtained, a telegraph pole was climbed and the conducting wire cut. Then Mr. Hills affixed the piece of wire to one of the ends of the telegraph wire, and by striking the end of this against the other end of the telegraph wire formed a circle and communicated to the officers of the road at Rutland their condition, asking that an engine be sent to their assistance, which was at once despatched, and succeeded in getting the blockaded train out of its difficulty. Mr. Hills received the answer to his despatch from the Rutland office by placing the end of the wire on either side of his tongue, and receiving the shocks in his system.

A scientific examination of the sulfur, which fell in the shower of the Lehigh Valley, the other day, proves it to be the pollen from a species of pine, caught up on the wind and carried from the Jersey forests.

“That the monkey possesses intelligence to a considerable degree is probably true,” said a hotel proprietor who has a small menagerie on his premises. “I believe, however much of the intelligence with which the animal is credited is due to his love of mimicry. The other day two young men with two girls were at the monkey’s cage feeding him peanuts. One of the girls was chewing gum and one of the men suggested that she give the monkey some, expecting that if he took it in his mouth it wold stick to his teeth and he would make sorry work of trying to chew it. The girl at once parted with the sweet morsel she was so industriously chewing, extending it toward the cage. The monkey grabbed it instantly, and put it into his mouth, but instead of chewing it or attempting to, began pulling it out in small ribbons, as children are frequently seen to do. When he had it all out of his mouth he rolled it into a compact ball between his hands, threw it into his mouth and began the operation again. He appeared to enjoy the performance as much as his visitors. That was imitation.”

“That’s all right,” rejoined another, “but I had an experience with that same monkey, wherein he displayed intelligence. I was by the cage smoking one day and I thought to annoy him by blowing smoke in his face. I was much surprised to find that instead of being annoyed he enjoyed it, as was evidenced by his edging up as near me as possible to receive the smoke in larger volumes. Soon he began scratching himself at the point where most of the smoke came against him. When I had smoked one side for a few minutes he would turn squarely round to have the other side treated in the same way. Then he sat directly in front of me an received the smoke squarely in the face and neck. I don’t know whether he held his breath, but he did not cough, sneeze or wince a particle. To complete the job, he then sat with his back toward me and it would have done you good to have seen him scratch. It made me think of the kickers of a hay-tedder in motion. Now, that monkey knew through some sort of intelligence that nothing will send flees [sic] and other insects to the surface or stupefy them as effectually as tobacco smoke.” Utica Observer.