the youth time of the last generation; and for any unkindly rubs of fortune in our own case, some unaccountable blindness of the reading public towards our merits, we gain the solace of a free criticism of other former reputations. How remote some of these things seem from us — impossible beauties, impossible sentimental stories, impossible political theories of Southey and Lockhart. We might be exploring an antediluvian literature. The proverb is something musty. "Die two months ago, and not forgotten yet! then there is hope that a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year."
An Old-Fashioned Orchard. — In these modern days men have lost the pleasures of the orchard; yet an old-fashioned orchard is the most delicious of places wherein to idle away the afternoon of a hazy autumn day, when the sun seems to shine with a soft slumberous warmth without glare, as if the rays came through an aerial spider's web spun across the sky, letting all the beauty but not the heat slip through its invisible meshes. There is a shadowy coolness in the recesses under the trees. On the damson trunks are yellowish crystalline knobs of gum which has exuded from the bark. Now and then a leaf rustles to the ground, and at longer intervals an apple falls with a decided thump. It is silent save for the gentle twittering of the swallows on the topmost branches — they are talking of their coming journey — and perhaps occasionally the distant echo of a shot where the lead has gone whistling among a covey. It is a place to dream in, bringing with you a chair to sit on — for it will be freer from insects than the garden seats — and a book. Put away all thought of time; often in striving to get the most value from our time it slips from us as the reality did from the dog that greedily grasped at the shadow; simply dream of what you will, with apples and plums, nuts and filberts within reach. Dusky Blenheim oranges, with a gleam of gold under the rind; a warmer tint of yellow on the pippins. Here streaks of red, here a tawny hue. Yonder a load of great russets; near by heavy pears bending the strong branches; round black damsons; luscious egg-plums hanging their yellow ovals overhead; bullace, not yet ripe, but presently sweetly piquant. On the walnut-trees bunches of round green balls — note those that show a dark spot or streak, and gently tap them with the tip of the tall slender pole placed there for the purpose. Down they come glancing from bough to bough, and, striking the hard turf, the thick green rind splits asunder, and the walnut itself rebounds upwards. Those who buy walnuts have no idea of the fine taste of the fruit thus gathered direct from the tree, when the kernel, though so curiously convoluted, slips its pale yellow skin easily, and is so wondrously white. Surely it is an error to banish the orchard and the fruit garden from the pleasure-grounds of modern houses, strictly relegating them to the rear as if something to be ashamed of. Pall Mall Gazette.
Spontaneous Combustion of Wasps' Nests. — Some time ago the house of General P. M. Arismendi (now consul of Venezuela, in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad) in this city, had a rather narrow escape from being set on fire by the spontaneous combustion of a large wasps' nest (a species of Polistes) in a closet under a roof. The day was exceedingly hot; but this circumstance, I think, has a very slight connection (if any at all) with the outbreak of smoke from the nest. Roofs in this country are constructed of tiles supported by a thick layer of compact earth, which rests on the usual lath-work of dry canes (the stems of Gynerium saccharoides, or aborescent grass), both being substances that conduct heat very badly. The source of heat must therefore have been in the nest itself. In bee-hives the temperature rises sometimes as high as 380 C. {teste Newport, as cited in Girdwoyn, "Anat. et Physiol. de l'Abeille," p. 23). We may be allowed to suppose that something similar happens occasionally also in wasps' nests. Such a heat might be caused by an alteration beginning in the wax, hydro-carbons being formed, which, on being absorbed by the paperlike, porous substance of the cell-walls, must get still more heated, so that a comparatively small access of oxygen would be sufficient to set the whole nest on fire. I have been assured that the spontaneous combustion of wasps' nests is a well-known fact in the interior of Venezuela, and as I do not recollect having found it mentioned in books, it appeared to me worth while to inquire whether something similar has been observed in other parts of the world, and if so, whether my explanation will hold good in all cases.
A. Ernst.
Carácas, July 15.
