"An English officer, Colonel A in a stage to New-York, and was extremely annoyed by a free and enlightened citizen’s perpetually spitting across him, out of the window. He bore it patiently for some time, till at last he ventured to remonstrate, when the other said, ’Why, colonel, I estimate you’re a-poking fun at me—that I do. Now, I’m not a-going to chaw my own bilge-water, not for no man. Besides, you need not look so thundering ugly. Why, I’ve _practised_ all my life, and could squirt through the eye of a needle without touching the steel, let alone such a great saliva-box as that there window.’ Colonel A at last his anger got up, and he spat bang in his companion’s face, exclaiming, ’I beg you a thousand pardons, squire, but I’ve not practised as much as you have. No doubt, by the time we reach New-York, I shall be as great a dabster as you are.’ The other rubbed his eye, and remained _bouche close_." In support of the hydropathic practice, and in illustration of the effect of cold, we cite an anecdote MIGNET tells of the celebrated French physician Broussais: "Seized with a violent fever at Nimèguen, Broussais was attended by two of his friends, who each prescribed opposite remedies. Embarrassed by such contradictory opinions, he resolved to follow neither. Believing himself to be seriously in danger, he jumped out of bed in the midst of this raging fever, and almost naked sat down to his escrutoire to arrange his papers. It was in the month of January; the streets were covered with snow. While thus settling his affairs the fever abated, a sensation of freshness and comfort diffused itself throughout his frame. Amazed at this result, Broussais, like a bold theorist as he was, converted his casual forgetfulness into an experience. He boldly _threw open the window_, and for some time inspired the cold winter air that blew in upon him. Finding himself greatly benefited, he concluded that cool drink would be as refreshing to his stomach as cold air had been to his body. He deluged his stomach with cold lemonade, and in less than forty-eight hours he was well again!" The following amusing anecdote is told in a work recently published in London of Tom Cooke, the actor and musician: