fnmasome rceoileetions of Washington Irving in the Home Journal : 'I was very nearly killed by an Indino, once," eaid lrving one evening. " Whcn I was a young man, 1 was traveling in Canada, with a friend. There were moro Indians there then thau there are whi'e men now. One raw, chilly dav, we were rowing in a oanoc on the fst Lawreneö with an Indiaa tor a guide. Aa vo neared the spot where Ogdensburgh now stands, hu invihid me to his wigwam to get something to cat. Securing the canoe to the shoro, we followed him a short distanco to his hut, where we iound his squaw busily cooking venison. Our guide motioned us to a seat by the fire, and thon proceeded tj drink a large qnantity of whisky. My friend watched him elosely ; but I talküd to his wife, who at first gave me short answer?, glancing at her lord and rnastur, to eee if he atened, which he seomed not to do ; then he tnlked more ireely. Thb squaw waa very ugly, having the overburdenud look thatyou see urr.ong Indian nomen; o, írom h lf pity, as abe took thu large hauuch from tho fire, I rose to asrsist hur. At, the sanie mo:nent herjealoua hu6band roised a largo club, Rtriking me on the head a blow that made rne íall insensible at his feet. As he was about to repeat the blow, my friend eaught me in his arrns, and, rushing from the wigwam, deposited me in the canoe. and was taking rne rapidly down the Htream beforo our hali-drunken purmier reaetol tho ehore. I bood reeovered my tenses, but I nevur was pulito to a squaw again.'"' Many yoars ago Irving wf.otea book imilar to his "Sketch Book," Biigested by a sojourn in the soutfaern títae""Tho trunk oontaining the maDuecnpt,'hc said, "was tolon on tny way home;" and we, therefoie, mourn a loss Boae can evur supply.