[According to the theory of "C. H.," the Christmas number of a magazine
should be filled with midsummer idyls, while Christmas carols would be
the appropriate reading in July or August. He thinks this would provide
a grateful relief--like ice on a hot day or a blazing log on a cold
one--from the effects of any intensity of temperature in the opposite
seasons. But this is confounding sensations with mere conceptions, and
seeking to "cloy the hungry edge of appetite by bare imagination of a
feast." The ice cools and the fire warms, but a description of one or
the other in place of the reality would make its absence only the more
intolerable. Reynolds the dramatist tells us that one of his summer
pieces was damned, owing to a scene in which the actors were served with
plentiful libations of cool drinks--a tantalizing spectacle that drew a
storm of hisses from the hot and thirsty audience. We hope the editor
whom "C. H." has so inconsiderately assailed may not be tempted to
revenge himself by exposing his contributor to a similar mishap.--ED.]

A HINT FOR THE CENTENNIAL.

The interest in the approaching Centennial celebration at Philadelphia
is daily widening and extending, and if those entrusted with its
management prove themselves competent for the work, and show that they
are duly inspired with its breadth and its significance to the world,
before the end of the present year there will not be a hamlet in the
land whose citizens are not made prouder of their nationality and
individually anxious to contribute something to its glory. It should be
made the grandest occasion of the kind which the world has ever
witnessed, for if it be anything less than that, it will fail to respond
to the honest aspirations and generous pride of the American heart.
Aside from the museum proper--the collection of past and present
manufactures, past and present implements of industry--every day should
witness some grand tournament, like that trial of grain-reapers which
took place at the exposition at Paris in 1855. The scene was a splendid
field of grain forty miles from the city. Three machines--one English,
one French (from Algiers), and one American--were the weapons of the
contest. The audience was a crowd of curious witnesses gathered from
every quarter of the globe. At a signal from the judges' stand the fine
machines started and moved each over its allotted acre, cutting down and
raking the grain like magic. The Algerian machine did