ABSENCE OF MIND. In his _Voyage autour de ma Chambre_, De Maistre discusses the very curious phenomenon of the independence of the mind and the body. He tells us how, in a fit of absent-mindedness, he often drew on his stockings wrong side out, and had to be reminded by his invaluable servant Joannetti of his mistake. Many readers will call to mind experiences of their own of a similar nature. It seems quite common to put one’s watch-key to one’s ear to ascertain if it is going; and many people are in the habit of winding their watches, and three minutes after, pausing to wonder whether they have done so or not. Who has not heard of the philosopher who boiled his watch while he calmly held the egg in his hand to note the time! Or of the equally erudite man of science, who, having peeled the apple, threw the apple itself over a cliff, and then discovered that the rind alone remained! Another individual had the habit—not such a very uncommon one—of forgetting his own name at awkward moments. One day he presented himself at the post-office for letters, when, much to his disgust, he could not think of his name. He turned sadly homewards, racking his brains in the vain endeavour to discover who he was. Suddenly a friend accosted him: ‘How are you, Mr Brown?’—‘Brown, Brown, I have it!’ cried the absent-minded one; and leaving his astonished friend, he rushed back to the post-office to get his letters. Sometimes absence of mind produces very ludicrous effects. Harry Lorrequer’s appearance on parade in the character of Othello is well known. A somewhat similar occurrence in real life happened not long ago. A student on leaving his rooms one afternoon to take a stroll in the fashionable street in a university town, suddenly remembered that his fire needed coals, and returned to replenish it. On issuing from his lodging the second time, he was surprised to see people looking at him with an amused smile. Presently, some ragamuffins at a street corner began to make audible remarks. On looking down, he discovered, to his horror, that he was serenely carrying the fire-tongs in place of his umbrella! One day an English savant wrote two letters, one to a business house in London, the other to a friend in Paris. In stamping them at the post-office, he placed the penny stamp on the letter for Paris, and the other on the business letter. Remarking to the post-office clerk that he would correct the error, he changed the addresses! It was not till after he had posted the letters that he understood why the clerk had not been more impressed with his brilliant idea. THE RETURN. All day the land in golden sunlight lay, All day a happy people to and fro Moved through the quiet summer ways; all day I wandered with bowed head and footstep slow, A stranger in the well-remembered place, Where Time has left not one familiar face I knew long years ago.