the spider can fasten her thread to its surface.
No insect can penetrate it; and this indicates
the value of slate furniture in India, and in
our tropical Colonies, where ants hollow out
everything wooden, from the foundation of a
house to its roof-tree. Hearth-stones of slate
were a matter of course in this house; and
we wished they had been so in some others,
where there has been repeated danger of fire
from sparks or hot ashes falling between the
joins of the stones composing the hearth.
Then, there were a music-stand, a what-not,
a sofa-table—and probably many more articles
in the bed-rooms, kitchen, and offices, which
we did not see.

It seems to us that we have heard so much
of new applications of slate, within two or
three years, as to show that the world is
awakening to a sense of its uses; but such a
display as this was a curious novelty. I
believe it is only recently that it has been
discovered how well this material bears turning
and carving, and how fit it, therefore, is to
be used in masses where solidity is required,
together with a capacity for ornament. If
its use become as extensive as there is reason
to suppose, the effect upon many a secluded
mountain population will be great. The
slate-quarrymen of our islands are, for the
most part, a primitive, and even semi-
barbarous set of people—Valencia being one
of the excepted cases. In Cumberland,
Westmoreland, and Wales, very important social
changes must take place, in whole districts,
through an increased demand for slate—better
wrought out of the mountain than at present.
As for Valencia, not only is its slate far
finer, and more skilfully obtained than any
we have seen elsewhere; but the workmen
are a body of light to the region they inhabit.
They marry, when they can, English girls, or
girls who have had English training in household
ways. Their dwellings are already
superior to those of their neighbours; and,
if the works increase, through an increased
demand, so as to become the absorbing interest
of Valencia, the island may become a school
of social progress to the whole west of
Ireland, where such a school is sorely needed.

TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

"Now, do tell me," said Margaret, earnestly,
"do tell me, without any joking or nonsense;
do the French eat frogs? Because, you know
what a horror I have of such things. And
now that we are in France, I should like to
learn what chance there is of my tasting them
by accident."

"Most certainly they do," said I,
philosophically, "as I will prove to you very shortly.
And if you could once overcome your
repugnance, you would like them too. They are
not the brown and yellow jumpers that we
have in England, but quite a different thing.
Will you step into the market before we
breakfast, and see? Madame Dubois is
now getting ready to buy our provisions for
the next few days: we will join her, and
stare at the lions. I will run and ask her
to wait for us."

Madame Dubois is—and I hope it will be
long before she is mentioned in any past
tense, perfect or imperfect—an excellent
Frenchwoman, who increases her husband's
income by receiving as inmates such strangers
as know how to conduct themselves properly,
which is not always the case, to our national
discredit. For instance: one Englishman,
after having eaten, and drunk, and lodged, to
the amount of between twelve and thirteen
pounds, went out one morning for a walk,
(after borrowing half-a-franc of Madame—as
he had no small change) and forgot to come
back again. Madame, however, still believes
that he is dead, or in prison, or in a
madhouse in consequence of his railway speculations:
she will not admit the idea that such
a good-looking Englishman is merely a shabby
swindler.

Well: Madame Dubois may be five-and-
forty, but she has a figure which many women
half her age might envy:—tall, neither too
fat nor too thin, and without the least bit of
awkwardness in her carriage. If new-gloved
and lightly shod, with one of those delicious
Parisian bonnets (not hats), and her best silk
dress—the entrance of Madame Dubois into
many an English drawing-room would
produce a sensation. She is the mother of a
family, is kind to all children—making them
love her without spoiling them—exceedingly
industrious; with a great command of temper,
being rarely provoked even to the hasty spark
which straight is cold again; with almost
constant good health:—"Ma foi!" said
Madame, after half-a-day's bilious attack, "I
now think I never shall die:"—with a
propensity to laugh at everything as it turns
up, and, decidedly, mistress in her own house.

Madame Dubois understands English
perfectly; but her educational advantages have
not been sufficient to make her speak it
correctly. Nevertheless, on urgent occasions
—such as the arrival of an Englishman who
does not know oui from non—she enters on
her duty unhesitatingly and fluently. If she
is at a loss for an English word, in pops a
French one; and if that is not forthcoming,
a bit of pantomime, more expressive than
either, stops the gap at once. If you laugh
at this hash of tongues, she laughs too; and
as a noble revenge, when your French is a
little out of sorts, she will kindly put you
right with a steady countenance. A
previous acquaintance gave me the privilege of
asking,

"May we go to market with you this
morning, Madame Dubois? And I want
you to send there immediately for one or two
little things"—the rest was inaudible.

"Certainly," said Madame, "with great
pleasure. Aurore shall attend to it instantly.
Her mamma keeps market."