with the old driver, when I noticed my hearer give a kind of warning glance: and then she went off into a merry peal of laughter as the door opened and a gentleman popped in his head. "Come here, my dear, learn a lesson of humility. This, my dear lady, is my husband, Dr. Lovely" (I have learned since that he is one of the most well-known of American physicians); "he is the Englishman, who can’t know anything." The doctor, who enjoyed the joke, engaged the same driver next day to have his fun as much as anything. After a good deal of skirmishing, he elicited all from the old coachman, who, however, said, though English, if Dr. L—— was a Roman Catholic, he might induce his son to trust him, as he believed that the little bottles he showed him really contained _des remèdes_. I know that the doctor explained to him that, though not a Roman Catholic, he attended nearly all the members of that denomination in the United States, and there was some kind of negotiation going on when I left. They may have come to terms, and the boy cured, despite himself. Perhaps this poor old chap, living for many years utterly isolated from civilization, might have the same horror of _Les terribles Anglais_ that the English peasantry had of Napoleon the First, who, when children were refractory, were threatened to be given to ’Bonaparte. And, now, as some of our English people may be hard on this old French-Canadian, I must tell you that the clergyman’s wife, attached to some very prominent hospital in one of the large cities of the United States, said they came across sometimes very odd cases, and instanced that of a patient coming to the hospital, and, being ordered to take a bath, said he had never taken a bath in his life, and must go home and consult his wife. He went and never returned!!! This, in one of the largest cities of America. So don’t too much despise the old backwoodsman’s prejudice. As Mrs. Lovely most kindly invited me to pay her a visit, I may yet tell you more about this very true tale. *ST. LEON SPRINGS.*