“‘I beg your pardon,’ says his riv’rence; ’that’s not the cork at all,’ says he. ‘I dhrew the cork a good two minits ago, and it’s very purtily spitted on the end ov this blessed cork-shcrew at this prisint moment; howandiver you can’t see it, because it’s only its raal prisince that’s in it. But that appearance that you call a cork,’ says he, ‘is nothing but the outward spacies and external qualities of the cortical nathur. Them’s nothing but the accidents of the cork that you’re looking at and handling; but, as I tould you afore, the raal cork’sdhrew, and is here prisint on the end ov this nate little insthrument, and it was the noise I made in dhrawing it, and nothing else, that you mistook for the sound ov the _pogue_.’ “You know there was no conthravaning what he said, and the Pope couldn’t openly deny it. Howandiver he thried to pick a hole in it this way. “‘Granting,’ says he, ‘that there is the differ you say betuxt the raality ov the cork and them cortical accidents, and that it’s quite possible, as you allidge, that the thrue cork is raaliy prisint on the end ov the shcrew, while the accidents keep the mouth of the bottle stopped; still,’ says he, ‘I can’t undherstand, though willing to acquit you, how the dhrawing ov the raal cork, that’s onpalpable and widout accidents, could produce the accident ov that sinsible explosion I heard jist now.’ “‘All I can say,’ says his riv’rence, ‘is that I’m sinsible it was a raal accident, anyhow.’ “‘Ay,’ says the Pope, ‘the kiss you gev Eliza, you mane.’ “‘No,’ says his riv’rence, ‘but the report I made.’” THE STUDENT OF UPSALA. Mary Howitt, in her “Frederika Bremer and her Swedish Sisters,” repeats the pleasant story of a university student at Upsala in the early part of the present century. He was the son of a poor widow, and was standing with some of his college companions in one of the public walks on a fine Sunday morning. As they were thus standing, the young daughter of the governor, a good and beautiful girl, was seen approaching them on her way to church, accompanied by her governess. Suddenly the widow’s son exclaimed, “I am sure that young girl would give me a kiss!” His companions laughed, and one of them, a rich young fellow, said, “It is impossible! Thou an utter stranger, and in a public thoroughfare! It is too absurd to think of.” “Nevertheless, I am confident of what I say,” returned the other. The rich student offered to lay a heavy wager that, so far from succeeding, he would not even venture to propose such a thing. Taking him at his word, the poor student, the moment the young lady and her attendant had passed, followed them, and politely addressing them, they stopped, on which, in a modest and straightforward manner, he said, speaking to the governor’s daughter, “It entirely rests with Fröken to make my fortune.” “How so?” demanded she, greatly amazed.