queen. Philip V. of Spain withdrew
from the throne in 1724 in a fit of melancholy, but ascended it again on
the death of his son. Victor Amadeus of Sardinia abdicated in 1730, and
afterwards wanted to recall the act, but was not permitted to do so.
Richard II. of England was compelled to abdicate in 1399, and in 1688,
James II. was forced to yield to the wishes of his subjects. Other
instances might be cited, but enough have been, quoted to stimulate the
research of industrious readers.

Memory in Cats.

An anecdote is told by a gentleman of a cat which will illustrate
pussy's affection for those who treat her kindly. He had her from her
birth, and brought her up as a friend and companion. After he had kept
her for five years circumstances required him to leave home for twelve
months, the cat of course having to remain behind. He returned one
Christmas morning about four o'clock, admitting himself by a key that
had been sent to him by post. He went upstairs to his old bed-room, and
in the morning found puss asleep in her wonted place at the foot of the
bed. She made a great fuss with him, and he ascertained that she had
never been upstairs from the time he left, a year before. She must, he
therefore concluded, have recollected his footstep, and at once have
fallen into her old ways.

Fugitives from Siberia.

Prince Krapotkine--a Russian noble who has experienced many of the
hardships of which he writes--in describing the life of exiles in
Siberia, says that its cruelty is so horrible that every spring, when
the snow has disappeared from the forests, and men may sleep in the
woods of a night without being frozen to death, thousands of the
convicts try to escape from the gold and salt mines. These poor folk
prefer to run the risk of capture and the brutal punishment it involves,
rather than remain longer in endless misery. Feeding on mushrooms and
berries they plod their weary way back, amid perils of every kind, to
their native homes, hundreds--it may be thousands--of miles distant.
They avoid towns and highways, of course, but they freely enter the
villages. The Siberian peasants, in silent pathetic fashion, show their
sympathy and good wishes for these unhappy people by leaving on the
windows of their houses bread and milk "for the poor runaways." Surely
we too may hope that the efforts of every unjustly-exiled person to flee
from the wretchedness and torture of the Siberian mines may be crowned
with success.