suctorial roots and tooth-like leaves. The latter are hollow, and are entered through a narrow aperture by many kinds of small animals. These seem to be entangled in protoplasmic exudations within the leafcavity, find exit impossible, die, decompose, and are absorbed." Even more remarkable is Mr. Thomson's account of the carnivorous proclivities of the butter wort. This plant secrets "a copious viscid acid secretion to entrap its victims." "This serves as 'insect lime;' but, besides retaining the unwary midges, it finally digests them. Drops of rain may fall on the leaves, or pebbles may land there, but without noteworthy effect; a small insect, however, stimulates a copious flow of the fatal secretion. But there is also movement; for, when an insect is caught, the margin of the leaves slowly curl inwards for an hour or two, thus surrounding the booty, or shifting it nearer the centre, in any case exposing it to more glands. After digestion, the results and the surplus exudation are absorbed, leaving finally the undigested skin of the insect on the more or less dry leaf-surface." It will be noted that this, in miniature, is almost exactly the process adopted by the Nicaraguan carnivorous creeper. If the species of insect-eating plants were very few in number, and were very sparsely found, it might be possible to regard them as mere lusus naturæ. There are, however, known to be several hundred dicotyledons which, in some way or other, catch and live on animal food. From such a basis the evolution of a giant and man-eating dicotyledon is within the bounds of possibility. We cannot help hoping very much that the story of the vampire vine will turn out to be true, for if it does, the botanists will be able to try some very curious experiments as to how these vegetables, which are half animals, digest, and whether their movements can properly be regarded as muscular movements. It is true that Darwin administered extremely homoeopathic doses (000095 of a milligramme) of nitrate of ammonia to a sundew, and found the plant responded to the drug exhibited; but it would be far easier to conduct experiments on a larger plant. Even as it is, we know that the insect-eating plants secrete not only an acid, but a "peptonizing ferment" for the purposes of digestion. They also feed, like animals, "on substances at a high chemical level." More than a hundred and fifty years ago, Linnæus noted that the Lapps "used the butterwort for curdling milk, a property due to a rennet-like ferment which the plant has in addition to the digestive or

peptic." Again, we are told that Dr. Burdon Sanderson has "detected electric currents similar to those observed in the neuro-muscular activity of animals." The borderland between animal and plant life occupied by the insect-eaters is, indeed, one of the most curious and interesting fields of biological study; and if a plant as large as the vampire vine could be obtained to experiment with, discoveries of enormous importance to science might very likely be made. The vampire vine would doubtless stand a grain of calomel after a heavy meat meal without damage or annoyance.

From The Saturday Review. MANX HUMOR.

IF it be said that between Manx and Scotch humor there is a strong family resemblance, the resemblance fails in this point, that man has had no Dean Ramsay. Yet there is room for one.

In the Isle of Man, as in Scotland, much of the humor depends upon odd turns of expression. "If aver I get to Heaven, pass'n (parson)," said an old parish clerk, "it'll be under your patronage." The notion here is funny enough, giving a vivid glimpse of the future state as depicted by a man who had seldom been outside his own parish. Or, the humor may consist merely in the unexpected use of some particular word. A queer old character who had been given a new muffler and kept it carefully wrapt up in paper instead of using it, replied to all remonstrances, "I'm not goin' fur to make a hack of it at all." Upon another occasion he remarked to a visitor who had been much benefited in health by residence in the island, "You iss a much batter gentleman now till you wass when you came;" with which may be compared the courtly minister's "who putteth her Ladyship's trust in Thee." To those who took his words literally, another expression of his would sound amusing. Describing a former mistress, he said, "We wass fallin' out reg'lar the first two years, but after that I could manage her." Yet all he meant by the last phrase was that matters had run more smoothly.

Even narrow-mindedness has its humorous side. "He's nice enough," said an old farmer, a staunch Churchman, speaking of an acquaintance, "but he's a Methodist. Not that he's on the 'plan' at ail, but he's next door to it." The degrees of comparison suggested here are delicious. The old fellow had no intention of being

amusing, yet was not by any means destitute of humor, as the following advice, full of worldly wisdom, which he gave to a pedlar and local preacher will testify. "I wass tellin' him," said he, with a twinkle in his grey eyes, "people would be thinkin' far more of him and his things if he joined the Church, and maybe the bishop himself would buy somethin'." His sectarianism was apt to show itself in a very pronounced form; but, nevertheless, he was almost a freethinker compared with a neighbor who had been in the habit of reading Spurgeon's sermons, and who gave it up because he was told that Spurgeon was suffering from the gout, an ailment which he had heard was caused by drinking port. Few Manxmen would go to this extreme.

Some funny stories are told about the marriage service. One of them relates how an old man brought rather unwillingly to the altar could not be induced to repeat the responses. "My good man," at length exclaimed the clergyman, "I really cannot marry you unless you do as you are told." But the man still remained silent. At this unexpected hitch the bride lost all patience with her future spouse, and burst out with, "Go on, you old toot! Say it after him just the same as if you wass mockin' him." The same difficulty occurred in another case. The clergyman, after explaining what was necessary and going over the responses several times without the smallest effect, stopped in dismay, whereupon the bridegroom encouraged him with, "Go ahead, pass'n, go ahead! thou'rt doin' bravely." Upon another occasion it was, strangely enough, the woman who could not be prevailed upon to speak. When the clergyman remonstrated with her, she indignantly replied, "Your father married me twice befoor, and he wasn't axin' me any of them imperent questions at all.”

Sometimes, as here, this unconscious humor is apt to be a little disquieting to the person to whom it is addressed. A certain author, having explained the nature of his occupation to an old Manx woman, was hardly prepared for the comment, "Well, well, what does it matter so long as a body makes his livin' honestly;" the words being evidently meant to put him on better terms with himself. But worse still fared an English clergyman, for some years vicar of a Manx parish, and, from ignorance of the people and their ways, not a very popular one. Having received preferment elsewhere, he started on a round of farewell visits, but without hearing a single regret that he

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was going. At last one old woman told him she was "mortal sorry." In his delight the vicar let curiosity outrun discretion, and he asked for her reason. 'Well," said she with touching candor, "we've had a lot o' pass'ns over here from England, and each one has been worse than the last, and after you're gone I'm afeard they'll be sen'in' us the Devil himself." The vicar left hurriedly.


Still, he may not have been quite as black as he was painted at least, if any weight be attached to the opinion of an old Manxman who stoutly maintained there was some good in everybody. A clergyman, taking, in fun, the opposite view, asked, "Then what do you say to Satan?" Quick as lightning, the old fellow tapped him on the shoulder, and replied, "Hush, hush, pass'n, it isn't for you to speak agen him at all. Doesn't he give you the very coat on your back?" Equally smart was the retort of a Mr. Teare to Bishop Hill, who had told him there were no tears in Heaven. "The Plains of Heaven I know, my Lord," said he, alluding to Martin's famous picture so-called, and painted from Manx scenery, "but I have never heard of a hill there." This readiness of tongue is found at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected places. A local preacher, who was dividing his sermon into an interminable number of heads, was interrupted by a shout from one of the congregation, impatient for the more solid matter of the sermon itself: "Mate (meat), man; give us mate! It's mate we've come here to get." Without a moment's hesitation the preacher replied, “Then houl' on till I've done carvin'." Then who would look for humor in an advertisement? Yet, take the following announcement from the proprietor of a certain new road who had reason to feel hurt because a lawsuit about a right of way had gone against him: "In order to prevent, if possible, the said road from being hereafter stolen by the public, I also give notice to jurymen, setting quests, and others whom it may concern, there was no footpath where the said road now runs up which a man, drunk or sober, could have driven a cart and pair of horses; and no old woman has been known to ride, or has been heard to boast that she has ridden on a cow, horse, pig, donkey, or other animal, or on a broomstick, over the said road." Many other instances could be quoted; but enough surely have been given to show that, in spite of Board Schools, Manx humor still exists with a rich, full-bodied flavor of its own.

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Amid the quiet meadows Ah! we were very near to-night

The peaceful rivers glide,

To meet the ocean's murmur, The simple word for which we longed,

The tumult of its tide. And there were moments when I thought

They leave the woodland whispers, Our impulses could not be wronged !

Where summer blossoms lave, Why was it, when you changed your place

To mingle with the ripples

Of the ebbing, flowing wave —
And passed so close beside my chair,

Yet the sea is not full.
That all the life within me thrilled
With pleasure that was half despair ?

How long, how long, wide ocean,
Why was it that I felt your gaze

Shall love be lost in thee, Still fixed upon me as I read,

And strength and beauty perish Yet with a strange, defiant fear,

In death's immensity ? Refused too well to turn my head ?

Oh, when shall ring the music

Of the promise over thee, How came it that we lingered on

The blessed music of the cry, As one by one the rest withdrew,

“There shall be no more sea?" Till, without seeing, I was sure

Sunday Magazine. CLARA THWAITES. That I was left alone with you?

Could you not hear my pages fast

Turned over with a restless hand? Did they not whisper all your wish

In words not hard to understand?

And, in the stillness, did they sound

Like breathless rustlings of the leaves That, trembling, wait the blackening storm

Which silent hangs above the trees? A word had done it! With a flash

Of Heaven's own light from heart to heart, Resistless love had rent the pride

That kept our pent-up lives apart !

'Twas the autumin time, dear love,

The English autumn weather;
And, oh, it was sweet, it was hard to beat

As we sailed that day together!
It was cold when we started out,

As we noted with sad surprise ;
And the tip of your nose was as blue, I sup-

As the blue of your dear, dear eyes.

But, ere it came, a sudden breath,

The rising wind of common life,
Blew cool upon us; and we sighed,

And turned us to our lonely strife.
Macmillan's Magazine.


We sailed to Hampton Court,

And the sun had burnt us black;
Then we dodged a shower for the half of an

And then we skated back;
Till the weather grew depressed

At the shifting state of its luck,
And the glass, set fair, gave it up in despair,

And much of the lightning struck.

We sat on the bank in the storm, “ALL THE RIVERS."

In the steady fall of the snow, “ All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full.” In the stinging hail and the howling gale,


And the scorching sun, you know; The mountain torrents hasten,

We sat in it all — yes, all!

We cared for no kind of weather –
With cataract and roar,

What made us so mad was the fact that we had
To reach the moaning ocean
And break upon its shore.

The whole of the kinds together.

Punch. Their mystery and music,

Their laughter and their leap,
Are lost within the bosom
Of the dark and sullen deep-
Yet the sea is not full.

The upper skies are palest blue
Athwart the purple moorland

Mottled with pearl and fretted snow: The flashing streams go by,

With tattered Aleece of inky hue Now grey beneath the storm-cloud,

Close overhead the storm-clouds go.
Now azure as the sky.
By bracken, gorse, and heather,

Their shadows fly along the hill
By crag, and rock, and plain,

And o'er the crest mount one by one; They hurry to the river,

The whitened planking of the mill
And the river to the main -

Is now in shade and now in sun.
Yet the sea is not full.


From Blackwoods Magazine.. “ Art thou better than populous No, that THE EGYPTIANS AND THE OCCUPATION.

was situate among the rivers, that had the The annual grumble against the pres. waters round about her, whose rampart ence of the British force in Egypt has was the Nile, and her wall was from the found utterance this year in louder tones river?" Homer knew of Thebes as the than ordinary through the usual chan- city of the hundred gates. It is still sels, and has had as usual the same called " Il Luxor," or " The Palaces.” The effect upon the policy of Britain and the Sphinx, the Pyramids, the wonders of sentiment of the powers. When no other Memphis, the tombs of Beni Hasan, the pretexts are at hand for disquieting the paintings of Abydos, the giant wrecks of sultan and exciting his suspicions of Thebes, the courts of Dendera, Esna, ard Great Britain and the central powers, the Edíu, the graceful columns of Philæ, the Russian ambassador to the Porte, backed sculptures of Bet-el-Wali, the majestic up by his French colleague, points out to Colossi at Ipsamboul, and the countless the sultan the reproach which the con other imperishable works in the valley of tioued presence of the English in Egypt the Nile, surpass all the other antiquities casts upon his suzerainty, and urges that of a corresponding age in the rest of the her Majesty's government shall be called whole world. The mind is bewildered by upon to put a term to their occupation. trying to understand that long past of Simultaneously the French press begins greatness, glory, and conquest. One never to shriek upon the subject, a great deal of wearies of seeing and re-seeing those bad language is vented, canariis are ac- mighty ruins. tively manufactured - and then the sub- The monuments and hieroglyphics pic. ject lies down until the next time it ture the ancient Egyptians in a very favorbecomes convenient to revive it as a able light. You may survey scores of diplomatic pastime. As for the British monuments and myriads of figures, and government, the substantial progress yet see no indelicacy till you come to which Egypt is making under its auspices Greek and Roman times. There is a dig. renders it quite indifferent to any outcries nity about the people which is very imabroad; and the best answer to either pressive. Their architecture may be France or the Porte is to point to Egypt called heavy as compared with the Greek, as it was before the occupation and to its but they had to use a soft sandstone or a condition now. Although Egypt has as stubborn granite, while the Greeks had yet only started upon a career of progress marble. So excellent is the work that an and improvement, no other justification of eminent American engineer offered a very our presence there is required beyond considerable sum of money to any engi. such notes of material advance – based neer of modern days who would quarry upon personal experiences among the fel- granite blocks of the size of those of the laheen for the last eight years – as we temple of the Sphinx - a temple of the shall be able to rapidly indicate in the fol- very greatest antiquity — and place the lowing pages.

columns as truly vertical, the lintels as In the whole range of history there is truly horizontal, and in as truly a straight probably no greater contrast than that beline, without the aid of any mortar, so that tween ancient and modern Egypt. To the a knife edge could not be joserted into traveller in the Nile valley, to the student any joint, and a large transit theodolite of history, and to the reader of the Bible, could not detect any deflection from the ancient Egypt is a synonym for majesty true north. and grandeur. Pharaoh, in Dean Stan- We have been accustomed to see the ley's words, was not, like Saul, greater ancient Egyptian in his most unfavorable than his fellows from his shoulders and light. The religion of ancient Egypt was upwards, but from his ankles and up- idolatrous, but their idea of God, of judg. wards. “Say unto Pharaoh, whom art ment, of justice, and indeed of a future thou like in thy greatness ? " "I am life, was almost Christian. We can no Pharaoh.” “By the life of Pharaoh.” | more hold the religion of ancient Egypt

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