have to be met with skill and judgment, but,
before they are conquered, other enemies have
to be guarded against. The insulation of the
conducting wire may be brought to absolute
perfection, but this will avail little unless the
insulation of contractors and jobbing concessionists
is also attended to. Of all destroying
agencies against which an electric telegraph
may have to contend, there is not one that will
be found so destructive as a commission agency.
Gold is a great misconductor in these cases, a
sort of metallic covering that is sure to be
spread over a multitude of flaws. A per-centage
upon economy of scientitic and mechanical
outlay, in a cable intended for shallow governments
rather than for shallow waters, is apt to
produce a belief that gingerbread may serve as
an excellent insulating medium. Government
assistance, in the shape of a financial guarantee,
can hardly be dispensed with in such speculative
and international undertakings; although
the lullaby patronage of the official mind is
dearly bought, even at thirty-six thousand pounds
per annum. The only safe course which presents
itself to practical men in connexion with submarine
telegraphs, is simply to deal with contractors
known to be responsible and trustworthy,
to pay them a sum not exceeding the actual cost
of the cable, and to allow a certain liberal percentage
for its use during the time that it actually
remains in working order. Under such
conditions, there appears to be no reason to
despair of the success of submarine telegraphy.

DOLLS' COFFINS.

THE parlour of the North Star was occupied
by a company more numerous than usual,
and discussion was more than ordinarily animated.
The parties assembled, whom we shall
distinguish not by names, but by characteristic
epithets, were ranged on a bench, which, attached
to the walls, surrounded the entire room.
Of this bench a portion sufficient for the accommodation
of a single individual was marked off
by a pair of wooden arms, and the seat thus
separated was filled by the Chairman of the
evening—a venerable, man, in whose countenance
might be traced the signs of innate beneficence,
heightened by the mildly spirituous
potations with which London shopkeepers of
the lower grade are wont to refresh themselves
when the profitable toils of the day
are over. It must not be supposed that
because the meeting had a Chairman, it in any
way performed the functions of an harmonious
assembly, or of a discussion forum. No song
or recitation was called for or expected; no
subject was proposed for debate; but everybody
present talked precisely as he pleased, and
without the slightest regard to the pleasure of
the rest. The Chairman, himself, far from being
a despot, was not even a constitutional monarch.
He could officially call nobody to order; he
had no originating power in the business of the
evening. His seat had arms, his cushion was
raised some three inches higher than the common
level. Herein consisted his sole official
distinction. Whatever authority he exercised
over his less privileged companions was to be
ascribed, not to his office, but to the weight of
his personal character,—to the force of his mild
persuasive wisdom.

The discussion in the parlour of the North
Star, while it had become louder and louder,
had at the same time become more abstract
with respect to its theme. One of the speakers
whom we shall call the Positive, had ventured to
assert that he differed from another, whom we
shall call the Negative, IN PRINCIPLE.

The Negative, instead of pursuing the argument
according to its natural course, gave it a
new turn. "I differ from you in principle, do
I?" said he. "How do you know that? I
defy you to tell me what a principle is." And,
cocking his hat on one side, and sending forth a
tobacco-cloud of extraordinary volume, he cast
his eye triumphantly round the company, who
gasped for the definition that this challenge
might elicit.

"I should think," replied the Positive, flinching
a little, but concealing his fears of defeat
under a cloak of superciliousness, "I should
think every fool knew what a principle was."

"Should you? Then, I shouldn't," tartly
retorted the Negative; "for I could mention a
fool who knows nothing about the matter."

"You had him then,—no mistake about
that," murmured an interlocutor whom we shall
call the Unctuous, with an approving chuckle;
and this opinion was confirmed by the laugh in
which all the company joined, save the vanquished
Positive and the beneficent Chairman,
who, sighing and raising his eyes to the ceiling,
seemed to think that the wit of the repartee,
brilliant as it was, scarcely excused the pungency
of the sarcasm.

"Jokes ain't arguments," grumbled the Positive,
when the laugh had subsided.

"No, they ain't, that's true enough; but
some people's arguments are very like jokes,"
thundered the triumphant Negative, following
up his victory, amid renewed shouts of laughter.

"I think you had better shut up," suggested
the Unctuous to the Positive, in a tone and with
a look that blended insolence with compassion.

"Shut up—not he!" exclaimed the malicious
Negative. "Why, he has not told us what a
principle is, yet."

"Gentlemen," said the Chairman, at length
opening his mouth, and speaking with the
blandest accents—"gentlemen, I trust this
discussion will be carried no further. What
principle is, we all know alike. Indeed, I am
sure there is not a man in this company that is
not a man of principle. For why? Principle
is based on moral conviction, and, therefore, it
stands to reason moral conviction is the foundation
of principle. A man without moral conviction
is not worth the name of a man. Therefore,
when I meet a party for the first time, I
ask myself, not if he is rich, not if he is talented,
but what are his moral convictions—in other
words, what are his principles. So, to close