The well-known saying of ‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing,’ is here singularly confuted, for it was just the ‘little knowledge’ applied with sagacity and intelligence that probably saved the life of a fellow-creature. Many of our readers will doubtless remember a melancholy occurrence which took place last year on one of the Swiss mountains, when a valuable young life was lost for the want of a ‘little knowledge,’ and in itself, very simple knowledge too. A German engineer and two guides were ascending one of the famous Swiss mountains, when the younger of the guides appears to have had a very bad fall, by which either a bottle or a lamp-glass was broken, the fractured part entering the young man’s thigh and dividing the femoral artery. It would not, we should suppose, have required very profound surgical knowledge to know that the man would inevitably bleed to death unless this great artery could be immediately compressed; but incredible as it may appear, neither the German nor the other Swiss guide knew anything about the matter. They tried to stop the spouting blood with their handkerchiefs, which of course was of no avail. Neither thought of tying the handkerchief or other ligature round the upper part of the limb, and then twisting it tight by the application of a stick; and so the poor young fellow quickly bled to death. Now, if the bleeding could have been arrested by ligature until surgical assistance was procured, the young guide would doubtless have recovered, for the injury, as a mere flesh-wound, was in itself by no means serious. Here, then, a ‘little knowledge’ would have done a vast amount of good. One of the best, most useful, and practical associations of the present day is the St John’s Ambulance Society, which teaches all who care to learn how to act in such emergencies as that related, and to take instant action _on the spot_, until surgical aid can be obtained—a ticklish and anxious time, often fraught with serious danger, when there is not a minute to spare, and where loss of time means loss of life. Let every one, therefore, who has any real love for his fellows, and who feels that he or she has the nerve requisite for the work—for this is a _sine quâ non_—at once learn how to act in cases of sudden accident, illness, faintness, drowning, or any other of the many unlooked-for ills and mishaps that ‘flesh is heir to’—a species of knowledge that will improve the mind of the possessor, and may be productive of infinite good. THE LAST OF THE STUARTS. A MODERN ROMANCE. III.—KING CHARLES III.