All this, it will be noticed, is at present merely hypothetical. It is, however, worthy of notice that _outside_ of electricity there is nothing known to physicists which seems to afford even a promise of explanation, so far, at least, as the grander and more striking (also the most mysterious) of cometic phenomena are concerned. It may well be that with our advancing knowledge of meteors and meteor systems, the spectroscopic analysis of the next few comets of the larger and completer types—comets like Donati’s comet, the great comet of 1811, and the comet of 1861—may throw unexpected light on mysteries which still remain among the most profound and unpromising problems presented to modern science.—_The Contemporary Review._ A TOUR ROUND THE WORLD. By MRS. MARY LOW DICKINSON. [Continued.] An early start from Killarney, and a seven-hour journey by rail, ending in delightful quarters at the pleasant Hotel Shelburne, in Dublin, gives a comfortable sense of having passed an agreeable day. “I would like to have run from Limerick Junction up to Limerick,” says a feminine member of the quartette. “I don’t think we missed anything in Limerick; I felt like stopping awhile at Kilkenny,” answered her brother. “But Kilkenny comes to America,” said the first speaker, who had been reading about the enormous annual emigration from that town. “Well, I fancy one can have all one wants of Limerick at home.” “Not all I want,” said the little woman, perversely. “What can you want, who have had your full share of domestic torments, with numberless Bridgets and Norahs?” There was no answer, but later, in the privacy of her chamber, she said, “I did so want to go to Limerick, to buy some Irish lace. You know they make it there, and send it over to Brussels, and then it is bought back into Ireland for quadruple its cost”—but the air of mild rebuke with which her companion looked up from the diary in which she was describing the beauties of Killarney scenery, seemed to act as a sudden check upon the purely feminine outburst. “Of course I know we can’t stop to buy things,” she added, apologetically. “Nor can we buy things when we do stop. It’s dreadful of you to begin to want things so early.” “Yes,” chimed in a masculine voice at the door, “It’s unworthy the spirit of a true Chautauquan. Get on your hats, girls, there’s time enough for a drive, to get what the books recommend—a general view of the town.”