action of the divided muscular fibres, was less than usual; nor was there so much contraction of the muscles themselves. I must also notice, that two or three times I touched the divided end of the sciatic nerve without any increase of the low moaning described by Mr Topham; and which, to all present, gave the impression of a disturbed dream.

The patient is doing remarkably well, and sat up on Sunday last to eat his dinner, just three weeks from the operation; and he has not had a single bad symptom, none even of the nervous excitement so frequently observed in patients who have undergone painful operations, and who have suffered much previous anxiety in making up their minds.

Although the single experiment we have detailed to the society is scarcely sufficient to set the question completely at rest, is it not of a sufficiently encouraging nature to demand an immediate repetition, by those of my professional brethren to whom the splendid institutions of the metropolis offer such frequent opportu

nities ?"

CONDUCT WORTHY OF IMITATION.

During the disastrous retreat of General Moore's army from Spain, an officer of one of the British regiments, overcome with fatigue and hunger, had dropped behind. He espied a tuft of trees in a field adjoining the road, towards which he crawled with the view of resting his weary limbs, secure from the sabres of the pursuing enemy. On his coming near to the trees, he perceived a woman, seemingly a soldier's wife, stretched upon the ground, and a little infant lying near her. He approached to administer such assistance as was in his power. It was too late; the hand of death was upon her; and she was scarcely able to utter these words, "God bless you! it is all over!" when she expired. The officer sat down beside her; he felt her hand; it was clay cold; he had nothing to succour her with; a brook was near; he filled his hat with water, and besprinkled her face and hands; all was in vain, and he was convinced she was utterly gone. Having rested himself so as to be able again to go on, he tied the little infant in the poor woman's handkerchief, and having fastened it to his back, he pursued his march; in this condition, procuring what sustenance he could for himself and the little orphan, he at last, after a long and wretched journey, reached the port of Vigo, which at that time happened to be unoccupied by the French; there he got on board of a transport, and reached at last England with his little charge. His regiment (or rather the remnant of it) had arrived before him, and he joined it, still accompanied by the infant. He has it (it is a boy) always with him, and has one of the women of the regiment to nurse it; and he declares that this little orphan, whom heaven threw upon his protection, shall, let his Fortune through life be good or bad, share it with him.Flowers of Anecdote.

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

A few days ago, there arrived at the hotel erected near the Niagara Falls an odd-looking man, whose appearance and deportment were quite in contrast with the welldressed and polished figures which adorned that celebrated spot. He seemed to have just sprung from the woods. His dress, which was made of leather, stood dreadfully in need of repair, apparently not having felt the touch of the needlewoman for many a long month. A worn-out blanket, that might have served for a bed, was buckled to his shoulders, a long knife hung on one side, balanced by a long rusty tin box on the other; and his beard, uncropped, tangled, and coarse, fell down upon his bosom, as if to counterpoise the weight of the dark thick locks that supported themselves on his back and shoulders. This strange being, to the spectators seemingly half-civilised, half-savage, had a quick glancing eye, an elastic, firm movement, that would no doubt cut his way through the cane brakes both of the wilderness and of society. He pushed his steps into the sitting room, unstrapped his little burden, quietly looked round for the landlord, and then modestly asked for breakfast. The host at first drew back with evident repugnance at the apparition which thus proposed to intrude its uncouth form among the genteel visitors; but a few words whispered in his car speedily satisfied his doubts. The stranger took his place in the company, some staring, some shrugging, and some laughing outright. Yet, reader, there was more in that single man than in all the rest of the throng. He as an American woodsman, as he called himself; he was a true, genuine son of nature, yet who had been entertained with distinction at the table of princes; learned societies, to which the like of Cuvier belonged, had bowed down to welcome his entrance; kings had been complimented when he spoke; in short, he was one whose fame will be growing brighter, when the fashionables who laughed at him, and many much greater even than they, shall have perished. From every hill-top, and every deep shady grove, the birds, those blossoms of the air, will sing his name. The little wren will pipe it with her matin-hymn about our house; the oriole carol it from the slender grasses of the meadows; the turtle-dove roll it through the secret forests; the many-voiced mocking bird pour it along the air; and the imperial eagle,

the bird of Washington, as he sits in his craggy home, far up the blue mountains, will scream it to the tempests and the stars. He was John James Audubon, the ornithologist.---American paper.

LODGING-HOUSE SERVANTS.

It would frighten any servant, but a real London Cinderella, to go down into the kitchen in a morning, and see the work those little hands have to do. The rows of boots and shoes to clean--the candlesticks to rub bright -the dishes to wash up-the pots and pans to scour the rugs to shake--the washing about of her own, all the week, although she is always adoing. Then the number of times she goes in and out in a day-now off for teathen butter-next time for a chop-then a bottle of soda water for the gentleman who had drank too much over night-again for the newspaper-a letter to the post-office -a pair of shoes to mend-a bundle to be carried to the laundress-a quartern of gin for the landlady. As she is ever taking down her little bonnet, which she never ties, and throwing on the half shawl she never pins-then with the latch-key in her hand, pointing her head twenty different ways-going-returning-then diving into the kitchen for a few moments to do her work-then up again to answer the bell; and never executing a single command tell the landlady what it was.of the lodgers' without being called into the parlour to -Godfrey Malvern.

THE RHINE SONG.

[The French, under a very convenient assumption, that the Rhine is the natural boundary of their country, have ever been eager to appropriate the Low Countries as far as the left bank of that river. On the other hand, the Germans are inspired with an enthusiastic attachment to this famous stream, in all respects their own. Last year, when the bellicose press of Paris was full of threatenings on this subject, a young German composed a song, embodying the popular sentiments of his country, and with such success, that the verses were sung in every company, and the king of Bavaria sent the poet a letter of thanks in his own hand, and a present of a silver cup. The following is a translation of this song.]

No! France shall ne'er obtain thee,
Thou free and German Rhine!
Though, thirsting to regain thee,
Her eagles scream, Thou'rt mine!"
No! ne'er while gently gliding

Between thy margins green, Ne'er while one prow dividing Thy placid waves is seen! No! she shall ne'er possess thee, Thou fair and German Rhine! So long as free hearts bless thee, And quaff thy generous wine! Ne'er while thy murmuring waters Yon rocks eternal lave, Ne'er while proud scenes of slaughter Are mirror'd in thy wave! No! she shall ne'er surround thee, Thou free and German Rhine! While warriors brave around thee With beauteous maids entwine! While on thy banks still hover

Our bards' enchanted strains, Ne'er till thy depths close over

The last man's bleach'd remains!

THE CAPTAIN'S PUDDING.

The following story is told of a Yankee captain and his mate:-"Whenever there was a plum pudding made, by the captain's orders all of the plums were put into one end of it, and that end placed next to the captain, who, after helping himself, passed it to the mate, who never found any plums in his part of it. Well, after this game had been played for some time, the mate prevailed on the steward to place the end which had no plums in it next to the captain. The captain no sooner saw the pudding than he discovered that he had the wrong end of it. Picking up the dish, and turning it in his hands as if merely examining the china, he said,This dish cost me two shillings in Liverpool,' and put it down again, as though without design, with the plum end next to himself. Is it possible?' said the mate, taking up the dish, I shouldn't suppose it was worth more than a shilling, and as if in perfect innocence, he put down the dish with the plan and next to himself. The captain looked at the mate, the mate looked at the captain. The captain laughed, the mate laughed. I tell you what, young one,' said the captain, you've found me out, so we'll just cut the pudding lengthwise this time, and have the plums fairly distributed hereafter."—Newspaper paragraph.

THE KING'S COCK-CROWER. Amongst the ancient customs of this country which have long sunk into disuse, was a very absurd one, and which, however ridiculous, was continued so late as the reign of George I. During the season of Lent, an officer, denominated the "King's Cock-Crower," crowed the hour every night within the precincts of the palace, in

stead of proclaiming in the ordinary manner. On the first Ash Wednesday after the accession of the House of Hanover, as the Prince of Wales, afterwards George II., was sitting down to supper, this officer suddenly entered the apartment, and proclaimed, in a sound resembling "the cock's shrill clarion," that it was past ten o'clock. Taken thus by surprise, and very imperfectly acquainted with the English language, the prince mistook the tremulation of the assumed crow as some mockery intended to insult him, and instantly rose to resent the affront; nor was it without the utmost difficulty that his interpreter could make him understand the nature of the custom, and assure him that a compliment was intended according to the court etiquette of the times. From that period, however, the custom has been discontinued.Newspaper paragraph.

VARIATIONS OF TIME.

In

Amongst the various matters introduced incidentally at the last meeting of the British Association, was the subject of the propriety of adopting a uniform scale of time along the different lines of railway in the kingdom, by the adoption of the time of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. It was considered that this would probably lead to the adoption of a uniform rate of time throughout the United Kingdom. Some curious observations were adduced by Mr Dent, from which it appeared, that the difference of longitude causes a very considerable deviation of time even in counties, being the results of ninetyone chronometrical measurements. The counties east of Greenwich, in which time is fast, are Cambridge, Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Sussex, whilst in all the other counties lying to the west, the time is of course slower. In Middlesex, the variation from Greenwich time at St Paul's is 23 seconds slower, and at Hampton Court, 1 minute 20 seconds. In Kent, the time at Dover is 5 minutes 16 seconds too fast; and at Tunbridge Wells, 1 minute 1 second. In Lancashire, the time at Manchester is 9 minutes slow; at Liverpool, 11 minutes 30 seconds; and Lancaster, 11 minutes 20 seconds. Lincolnshire, the time at Louth is the same as that of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, being in the same parallel of longitude; whilst at Lincoln, the clock is 2 minutes 4 seconds too slow. In Hampshire, the time at Southampton is 5 minutes 36 seconds slower than at Greenwich; and at Portsmouth, it is 4 minutes 24 seconds. At Brighton, it is 32 seconds too fast; and at Hastings, 2 minutes 30 seconds. In Westmoreland, the clock at Appleby is 10 minutes; and at Kendal, 11 minutes faster than the London time. At Chester, it is 11 minutes 32 seconds; whilst the variation at Falmouth is 20 minutes 12 seconds; and at Truro, 20 minutes 6 seconds also too slow. At Northampton, the clock is 3 minutes 36 seconds too slow; and at Peterborough, 58 seconds; at Shrewsbury, 10 minutes 56 seconds; Oswestry, 12 minutes 8 seconds; Warwick, 6 minutes 20 seconds; Birmingham, 7 minutes 23 seconds; and Coventry, 6 minutes 1 second. In Yorkshire, at Beverley, it is 1 minute 42 seconds; York, 4 minutes 24 seconds; and Leeds, 6 minutes 4 seconds. In North Wales, at Holyhead, 16 minutes 36 seconds; and Bangor, 16 minutes 14 seconds; and in South Wales, at Cardigan, 18 minutes 40 seconds; and Carmarthen, 17 minutes 16 seconds. At Edinburgh, the clock is 12 minutes 43 seconds; and Dublin, 25 minutes 31 seconds too slow; whilst at Paris, it is 9 minutes 21 seconds too fast.-Railway Times.

SINGULAR PROPERTIES OF THE FIGURE NINE. Multiply 9 by itself, or by any other single figure, and the two figures forming the product will, in each case, if added together, amount to 9; for example, 9 multiplied by 9 is 81, and 8 and 1 added together make 9; so on with the other figures. The figures forming the amount of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, added together (viz. 45), will also, if added together, make 9. The amount of the several products, or multiples of 9 (9, 18, 27, 36, 45, 54, 63, 72, 81), namely 405, and the figures forming either the dividend or the quotient, added together, make 9. Multiply any row of figures, either by 9, or by any one of the products of 9, multiplied by a single figure, as by 18, 27, 36, 45, 54, 63, 72, or 81, and the sum of the figures of the product, added together, will be divisible by 9. Multiply the 9 digits in the following order-1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, by 9, or by any one of the products of 9 mentioned in the last sen tence, and the products will come out all in one figure, except the place of tens, which will be a 0, and that figure will be the one which, multiplied into 9, supplies the multiplier; that is, if you select 9 as the multiplier, the product will be (except the place of tens) all ones; if you select 18, all twos; if 27, all threes; and so on. Omit the 8 in the multiplicands, and the 0 will also vanish in the product, leaving it all ones, twos, and threes, &c., as the case may be.-Newspaper paragraph.

The present number of the Journal completes the eleventh volume of the work, for which a title-page and copious index are prepared, and may be had on application to the Publishers or their Agents, at the usual price of a number. Any odd or past numbers of the Journal can also be had for the purpose of completing sets.

END OF THE ELEVENTH VOLUME.