--and soon the ice began to crack around him. The
water in the pond was not deep, but the ice continued to break
with his efforts to extricate himself. He found that the boys had
successfully entrapped him, and it was not until he had made a
promise not again to interfere with their sport that they
consented to assist him out. He kept his promise, and the boys
ever after, when they designed any extra sport on the ice, had his
nick-name for a by-word.

JAY G. BEE.

* * * * *

'Salt,' according to MORESINUS, 'is sacred to the infernal
deities,'--for which reason, we presume, those who were seated 'below
the salt' at the banquets of the Middle Ages were always 'poor devils.'
Attic salt is always held to be more pungent when there is a touch of
the diabolical and caustic in it,--and therefore caustic itself is known
as _lapis infernalis_. 'Poor Mr. N----,' said a country dame, of a
recently deceased neighbor who was over-thrifty, 'he always saved his
salt and lost his pork.' 'Yes,' replied a friend, 'and now the salt has
lost its Saver.' The reader has doubtless heard of the lively young
lady, named Sarah, whom her friends rechristened Sal Volatile.
Apropos--a New Haven friend writes us that--

My chum, Dr. B., is not a little of a wag. At a social gathering,
shortly after he had received his diploma, the young ladies were
very anxious to put his knowledge of medicine to the test.
'Doctor,' queried one of the fair, 'what will cure a man who has
been hanged?' 'Salt is the best thing I know of,' replied the
tormented, with great solemnity.

* * * * *

According to a cotemporary--the Boston _Herald_--the best Christians may
be known by the pavements before their houses being cleaned of ice and
snow. This reminds us of a spiritual anecdote. A deceased friend having
been summoned through a medium and asked where he had spent the first
month after his decease, rapped out,--

'I-n--p-u-r-g-a-t-o-r-y.'

'Did you find it uncomfortable?'

'Not very. While I lived I always had my pavements cleared in winter,
and all the ice and snow shoveled away was given back to me in
orange-water ices, Roman punch, vanilla and pistachio creams, frozen
fruits, cobblers, juleps, and smashes.'

Somebody has spoken in an Arctic voyage of the musical vibrations of the
ice. There is certainly music in the article. 'Take care,