“Everybody in Paraguay smokes,” says a South American traveler, “and every female above the age of thirteen chews. I am wrong. They do not chew, but put tobacco in their mouths, keep it there constantly, except when eating, and, instead of chewing it, roll it about and suck it. Imagine yourself about to salute the red lips of a magnificent little Hebe, arrayed with satin and flashing with diamonds, as she puts you back with one delicate hand, while with the other she draws forth from her mouth a brownish-black roll of tobacco quite two inches long, looking like a monster grub, and then, depositing the savory lozenge on the brim of your sombrero, puts up her face and is ready for a salute. I have sometimes seen an over-delicate foreigner turn away with a shudder of loathing under such circumstances, and get the epithet of ‘the savage!’ applied to him by the offended beauty for his sensitive squeamishness. However, one soon gets used to this in Paraguay, where you are, perforce of custom, obliged to kiss every lady you are introduced to, and one-half you meet are really tempting enough to render you regardless of the consequences, and you would sip the dew of the proffered lip in the face of a tobacco-factory,—even in the double-distilled honeydew of Old Virginia.” A NEW YORK DRUMMER’S PREDICAMENT. At Big Creek, Arkansas, they have a peculiar fashion, which sometimes proves embarrassing. As there is no preacher within thirty miles, the way for marrying is by kissing across a table. Recently, a New York drummer who was there on business put up at a private house, and became quite intimate with the inmates. One evening he was fooling around one of the girls, and trying the sweetness of her temper, when she gave his whiskers a pull and ran. He followed. She got the table between them. He chased her around it several times. When out of breath, he stopped on the other side, and, making a wild plunge, caught her in his arms and gave her a hearty kiss. She then sat down on the sofa, and they talked pleasantly for a couple of hours,—he thinking it singular that she should sit up so late. At last she said, “Don’t you think it’s about time we went to bed?” “I guess you are right,” he remarked; “let’s go.” She lit a candle, and he was about to do the same, when she said, “I reckon one’s enough. One candle will light two folks to bed.” “Undoubtedly it would, when those two people occupy the same room. But your candle won’t illuminate my chamber.” “Ain’t we going to occupy the same room? Ain’t we married?” “Ain’t we what?” shouted the gentleman. “Married! Didn’t you kiss me across the table? That married us.”