CURIOUS.--In a book of accounts, belonging to a small dealer, who had become bankrupt, in the west of England, were found the following names of customers to whom credit had been given: “Woman on the Key; Jew Woman; Coal Woman; Old Coal Woman; Fat Coal Woman; Market Woman; Pale Woman; A Man; Old Woman; Little Milk Girl; Candle Man; Stable Man; Coachman; Big Woman; Lame Woman; Quiet Woman; Egg Man; Littel Black Girl; Old Watchman; Shoemaker; Littel Shoemaker; Short Shoemaker; Old Shoemaker; Littel Girl; Jew Man; Jew Woman; Mrs. in the Cart; Old Irish Woman; Woman in Cow street; A Lad; Man in the country; Long Sal; Woman with Long Sal; Mrs. Irish Woman; Mrs. Feather Bonnet; Blue Bonnet; Green Bonnet; Green Coat; Blue Britches; Big Britches; The woman that was married; The woman that told me of the man.” * * * * * “I hope I don’t intrude,” as the knife said to the oyster. [Illustration: Instinct] Instinct. As M. Moreau de Johnes was riding through a wood in Martinique some years since, his horse reared and exhibited the greatest degree of alarm, trembling in every limb with fear. On looking around to discover the cause of the animal’s terror, he observed a serpent, called _fer de lance_, standing erect in a bush of bamboo, and he heard it hiss several times. He would have fired at it with his pistol, but his horse became quite unmanageable, and drew back as quickly as possible, keeping his eyes fixed on the snake. M. de Johnes, on looking around for some person to hold his horse so that he might destroy the viper, beheld a negro, streaming with blood, cutting with a blunt knife the flesh from a wound which the serpent had just inflicted. The negro entreated M. de Johnes not to destroy it, as he wished to take the animal alive, to effect a cure on himself, according to a superstitious belief; and this M. de Johnes allowed him to do. Varieties. LITTLE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER.--About three o’clock, one cold, dark, damp day, at the end of December, I met a little chimney-sweeper in England, who had come with his father that morning from a town eight miles off, to sweep the various chimneys about. He was nearly ten years old. “Do you go home to-night, my little fellow? Where is your father?” “He went forward to the village of D----, and I am to follow.” “Are you afraid to go?” “No, I don’t feel afraid.” “I hope you are a good boy and don’t swear--do you say your prayers?” “Yes, always, every night and morning.” “Do you like sweeping chimneys?” “As to that, I don’t think any one could like it much; but there are nine children of us, and we two eldest boys must help father; and mother is good, and gets us breakfast early; and father is good to us, and we do pretty well.” “Do you go to Sunday school?” “Some of us always go.” Here ended our conversation.