To afford a special supply of priests for Hayti, the Archbishop Testard de Cosquer established in 1864 a Haytian seminary in Paris, to the support of which the Chambers in Port-au-Prince voted 20,000 francs a year. This allowance being irregularly paid, the seminary was closed, but was reopened by Monseigneur Guilloux, who obtained a yearly sum of 10,000 francs from the Haytian Government. It is perhaps needless to say that even this small amount is generally greatly in arrear. There can be no doubt that Monseigneur Guilloux and his clergy are fighting a good fight in the cause of civilisation, but with such a Government and such a people their progress must be slow. EDUCATION. The following anecdote aptly illustrates the saying, Who shall teach the teachers? It is a custom in Hayti that in all schools, public as well as private, there shall be once a year a solemn examination in the presence of a commission appointed by Government. M. Seguy-Villevalien kept the best private school or college that Port-au-Prince had ever seen, and on the appointed day for the public examination the official commission arrived, and having been duly installed in the seats of honour, teachers and pupils presented themselves, and the work commenced. All went well till the exercises in orthography were nearly over, when unfortunately M. Villevalien turned to the president of the commission, a negro of the deepest dye, but a high Government functionary, and said, “Would you like to try the boys yourself?” “Certainly;” and various words were given, which were written down on the black-board to the satisfaction of all. At last the president gave the word “Pantalon,” and a smart boy carefully chalked it up. “Stop!” cried the sable chief, “there is a mistake in that spelling.” The master, the teachers, and the boys carefully scanned the word, and could detect no mistake. The black had a smile of conscious superiority on his lips. At length the master said, “I see no mistake, president.” “You don’t! Do you not know that it is spelt with an _e_--‘pentalon’?” After a severe glance at his pupils to prevent an explosion of laughter, my friend, perfectly equal to the occasion, answered, “It used to be spelt so, president, but the Academy has lately changed the mode, and it is now spelt with an _a_.” The courtesy and gravity of M. Villevalien’s manner was such that the president of the commission was quite satisfied and pleased with himself. He wrote a favourable report on the condition of the school. Had the almost uncontrollable laughter of the boys burst forth, what would have been the report? And yet this man was a leading spirit in his country, and thought fit for the highest offices, though he was as stupid as he was ignorant. I arrived at the college just too late for this scene, but in time to hear the cheerful laughter of the boys, who, after the departure of the commission, made the playground ring with their merry jokes.