A lady sends a loving greeting to her departed cousin Phœbe, fully believing the lost one watches over her, and asks: 'Can you see mamma and I in our daily life here? Can you see my dear loved George? How long before he will be free from the unlawful bond now entangling and oppressing him? Will Georgie return to me this autumn? How soon will we be wedded?' A widower propounds a few 'live questions' to his dead 'wife in heaven,' and wants to know if she is happy; if she can come back to earth, or desires to do so; if dear little baby is with her; and if she can find any medium in Philadelphia through whom he could communicate with her. Another widower, not without hope of finding consolation for his loss, wishes his lamented wife to tell him if he had better sell his business and go to Europe with his patent rails, or remain where he is and marry Miss Boyd. Jealousy is not supposed to exist in the spirit-world, or Camilla Stick would scarcely invite her defunct husband to enlighten her as to the intentions of a certain gentleman by informing her whether Mr W---- loves her and will marry her, or whether he rather inclines to 'Cora,' and will visit that damsel when he goes to Philadelphia. Less excuse for his inquisitiveness respecting other folk's feelings has Mr Key, who writes to his brother: 'Can you tell me if my niece Marie will recover and be a well and strong girl; and who she is in love with? What are my prospects in New York, and had I better remain here, or go home to my father? Also if my tickets in the Louisville lottery will gain me a prize, and what do you think of cotton declining? Will Mr Zoborowski do anything for me, and does he really like me? Does my sister feel sorry for what she has done? Will Anna Zoborowski marry a foreigner? Does she love any other person? Does Alexander love Marie? and does Alores love Anna? Good-bye, my dear brother. Can you give me the names of some friends in the spirit-world?' The credulity demonstrated in these and such other ridiculous questions almost exceeds belief. And this in a country boasting of its education and its shrewdness! AN IRISH MISTAKE. For more than twenty years it has been my custom to recruit myself every autumn with a walking tour of over a month's duration. By this means I have seen more of these islands than any one of my acquaintance, and have had peeps into the inner life of the people such as few tourists obtain. In doing this, I never overstrained myself, as is now too often the fashion. I walked just so far as I pleased, and rested when nature or my inclination gave me the hint. Sometimes my journeys were made in the cool of the evening, sometimes in the early morning; often I slept in the cabin of some labourer, and not once or twice, but a dozen times, have been forced to make my lodging under the lee of some friendly hay-rick.