yourself. Cardan, Rousseau, and Munaret assert
that the susceptibility of the olfactory apparatus
is in direct proportion to the educability of the
individual : which has been confirmed by
observation. Thick-skinned, obtuse, and unintellectual
patients, will breathe through their mouth when
they cannot breathe through their nostrils; a little
tannin or camphor-snuff will cure their headache
and console them for the rest. But artists,
lawyers, and men of letters, become really
objects of compassion. And if a derangement of
the nasal crypts be an affliction when only
temporary, what is it when it assumes the form of
a coryza in permanence? Dr. Hare, of the
University of London Hospital, defines it as
the pains of purgatory; a proof that he has
studied its symptoms elsewhere than in books
and amongst his patients. To find a remedy
for this affection is, therefore, a matter of vital
importance to all who respect their human
dignity. Man is certainly a creature of noble
mien— particularly when he has the pip in his
nose!

Coryzas are of two sorts: moist and dry.
Which is preferable, is hard to tell. Those
who have tried both, pronounce for neither.
One practitioner, driven to despair, has hatched
a frightful theory. He holds that coryza is
neither more nor less than a sort of ringworm
inside the nose, which must be burnt out with
nitrate of silver. Others refer you to
hydropathic treatment; others to the globules of the
homœopathists. If neither of the above will
cure you, go to Bath and try a sulphurated
douche; or you may put yourself under a
doctor who deals in hydro-thermal dust:
namely, one who shuts you up in a box, and
makes you breathe medicated hot water chopped
up small. Or you may bleed, and blister, and
dose well with aperients. Sub-nitrate of
bismuth alone, or associated with iodide of
sulphur, have been tried— as have cold water
lotions applied to the face— in vain.

Your wisest plan will therefore be, to leave
these learned prescriptions to their fate.
Fortunately, you have left the choice whether you
will treat your coryza at your cephalic or your
pedal extremity. The latter will be a counter
irritative application. You put your feet into
water as hot as you can bear it, and keep them
there as long as your patience lasts. The coryza
is thereby coaxed downwards, and your nasal
organ, consequently, restored to its normal
sonority and permeability.

The most interesting style, however, of treating
a coryza may be given under the formula,
"Tie up your head, and take on." This is the
favourite mode on the Continent. The little
birds do it, poor things, when they tuck their
heads under their wings. There is a historical
anecdote— now first given to the world— known
in the family where it occurred as " Le Combat
des Bonnets" deNuit"— The Battle of the Nightcaps.
Two French émigrés were staying in the
house of an English nobleman. Being both
severely coryza-stricken, they retired early to
their double-bedded room. On searching their
drawers they mustered altogether exactly
thirteen nightcaps. They first put on six each in
rapid succession, and then fought who should
have the seventh.

In default of nightcaps, any other wrap
whatever will serve as a capitular envelope,
provided it be dense enough. The worsted
stocking from your left leg is invaluable; be
particular about the left, because the right is
devoid of healing virtue. A flannel petticoat is
not to be despised. Young ladies have shaken
off coryzas by passing the night with that
mysterious garment worn aloft, instead of in its
usual and diurnal place. When the ostrich
sticks his head in a hole, it may be not, as the
vulgar suppose, to hide his body from the
hunters, but more probably his peculiar and
instinctive mode of dealing with a severe coryza.

Finally, the best advice may be, to cancel' the
opening sentence of this Article. All things
considered, it ought to stand, " Don't catch a
coryza— if you can help it."

THE SUB-SURVEYOR.

IT was a provoking thing, in the first place,
when young Parkes fell ill. We were weak-
handed, so far as the staff was concerned, on our
section, the Lublin section, of the new line.
Those were the early days, too, of railways in
Poland, and the life of an engineer was not
exactly spent upon rose-leaves. Parkes was
invalided and went home to England, and for a
good while the whole work devolved on me. I
like work, and I did my best to work out the
South Polish to the satisfaction of my employers;
but it was really too much for one pair of eyes
and one pair of hands. The native " navvies"
required as much coaxing and attention as so
many children. What with red letter days that
were terribly frequent in their traditionary
almanack; what with wedding feasts, unlucky
days, and so on, I could seldom reckon on
downright labour in exchange for actual wages.
They were strapping fellows, kind, polite, and
full of winning ways and the petty courtesies of
life, but sure to drop the spade and to light
their smuggled cigars, unless they were watched.
And who was to watch them? not John Shaw,
civil engineer, at any rate. He had too much
correspondence to conduct, since the line was
partly paid for by a government subsidy, and
the imperial bureaux kept up a heavy fire of
letters, all of which had to be replied to
categorically, in the best French at my disposal.
There was other necessary labour than this pen
and ink work. Even surveying was difficult, since
the labourers crossed themselves at the proposal
to assist me with my apparatus, and briefly gave me
to understand that they regarded my instruments
as " magical," and had rather, in consequence,
refrain from meddling with them. But for a
shrewd Armenian pedlar, who gave me some
help, I should have been brought to a stand-still,
and, as it was, my progress was slow.

It was with much satisfaction, therefore, that