two the subscribers of

BEGINS.

solar time. In making answer to such in

the PHRENOLOGICAL

been received with regard to the place where navigators in going around the world or in crossing the Pacific Ocean make or lose a day to accord with the difference in

use

to the point than that found in Schedler's excellent Manual for use with terrestrial globes, the map accompanying which will be found to illustrate our meaning.

Every one knows that day and night are respectively caused by the revolution of the earth upon its axis. All places which lie upon one and the same meridian, and which, consequently, have the same geographical longitude, have at the same moment mid-day or midnight, in other words, the same time.

"On the other hand, if one start from any given meridian, on any one of the imaginary circles, drawn upon the globe parallel to the equator (parallels of latitude), either eastward or westward, then the clock of a place lying eastward at once becomes faster than that of a place lying to the west. The reason of this is that, on account of the motion of the earth from west to east, the sun rises earlier in the place lying eastward than in that to the west. The difference of time thus produced is four minutes for each degree.

"This accounts for the experience made centuries ago by the first circumnavigators, that a ship which sails around the earth from east to west-that is, in the same direction as the apparent motion of the sun-has lost a whole day upon arriving at her point of departure. On the contrary, if the voyage has been made from west to east-that is, in a direction opposite to the apparent motion of the sun-the ship will have gained a day in her reckoning.

"This creates a difference not only in the hour of the day, but also in the day of the week and the date of the month. This dif ference, moreover, occurs not only on the occasion of a voyage around the world, but even between two places the one of which is far enough eastward or westward of the other—that is, between whose geographical longitudes the difference is sufficiently great. For example, when Monday, January 15th, dawns in Leipzig, it is still 11:20 P. M. of Sunday, January 14, in Paris; and in New York it is 6:15 P. M. of Sunday.

such a point, consequently, from what has been said above, there must be two dif ferent reckonings of time varying by 24 hours.

"As will be seen, this date-line starts from the South Pole, strikes pretty nearly directly north; then inclines east of New Zealand ever gradually more to the northwest, and runs thus on the east side of Australia by the Hebrides and New Guinea into the Chinese or Yellow Sea; here, however, where it has attained its greatest western projection, it makes a bending sweep to west and north, which, leaving Celebes and Borneo to the southwest, passes around the easterly lying Philippines, then takes a bend northeastward to the east side of the Japanese islands, past these into Behring's Straits, from which skirting the coast of the continent of Asia, and again taking a northerly bend, it ends in the North Pole.

"If to the east of this line it is Sunday, the 1st of a given month, then, at all points west of it, it is Monday, the 2d of the month. As shown by the map this line lies almost wholly in the sea. If, now, a vessel circumnavigating the globe wishes to agree in her reckoning of time with that of her port of departure, it is necessary, if the voyage be eastward, to drop a day on the way, but if westward, to count a day twice over. This should of right be done on passing the date-line. It is, however, usual among navigators to make this rectification on crossing the 180th meridian from Greenwich, tolerably near which, as will be seen from the map, the extreme northern and southern projections of the date-curve

come.

Finally, it may be remarked that, as our date-line is identical with no one meridian, there must be a point, at its extreme eastern projection, which first receives the sun's rays, and where, consequently, the New Year begins. This point might be called the New Year's Point. The place which corresponds to this point is Chatham Island, east of New Zealand (about 183 degrees east of the meridian of Greenwich, and in the 44th degree of southern latitude). In this regard the Chatham Islanders are in advance of all the rest of the world."

WE

E take the following excellent counsel from the Philadelphia Ledger. It is an epitome of practical wisdom, and well worthy of the widest circulation:

"There are few conditions of mind more painful to endure, and more fatal to efficiency or success, than irresolution. Most of us can recall occasions when we have been thus afflicted, hesitating anxiously between two opposite courses, preferring first one and then the other, as their several advantages present themselves, becoming each moment more confused and uncertain, and, though vexed and ashamed of the delay, yet utterly unable to end it by a decision. We may be happy if such a condition is rare and exceptional with us; if our usual habit is to think deliberately, decide resolutely, and act firmly.

"The irresolute man is continually wasting energy. The power that should be economized for action he consumes in anxious alterations of opinion. Does he propose a journey, a business enterpise, or some change in his mode of life, he is torn with conflicting thoughts as to its desirability. The inducements to carry it out appear in glowing colors, and he thinks his purpose is settled; then possibilities of failures and fears of disappointment bear on him so strongly that he almost renounces it. Again convictions of its benefit press with renewed force, and he oscillates most painfully between the two courses, not having sufficient Firmness either to undertake or to relinquish the enterprise. Meanwhile the delay itself frequently settles the matter; the time in which he might have chosen for himself passes away, and he is forced to accept what fate has left him without any reference to his judgment or preference. Directly the power of choice is removed, all the advantages of the opposite plan rush upon him with ten-fold force; he is sure that that would have been his selection had the opportunity been prolonged; and, consequently, acting upon compulsion, without heart or faith, and, indeed, against what he now thinks his better judgment, his failure and his discontent are both insured. In

the smaller details of life, this irresolution, if less disastrous, is even more vexatious and annoying. To waver about trifles, to hesitate and doubt and balance probabilities upon every little matter that presents itself for immediate decision, is a lamentable waste of power, distressing to one's self, and irritating to every looker-on. It is better to make some mistakes, we should all declare, than to thus constantly lose time and force in debating the pro and con of each petty action.

"A habit of self-dependence is one most important ingredient in a resolute character. He who, either from inclination or the force of circumstances, has always leaned upon others, can hardly be expected to show much energy in decisions, or much inflexibility of purpose. It is just here that freedom becomes so palpable a blessing, giving to every man and woman the opportunity for acquiring a self-reliance that nothing else can supply.

"It is, perhaps, hardly possible for one who has attained maturity with a vacillating, irresolute nature ever to become a decided and resolute character. Still there are various degrees of this valuable quality, and it is within the power of each individual so to discipline himself as to strengthen and increase it. A thoughtful survey of every important subject on which we are called to decide is necessary to this end. There is a time for deliberation as well as for action, and when the former is crowded into the latter a wise decision is impossible. All aids to this end should be warmly welcomed, not as props to support our weakness, but as means to correct our judgment. The inflexibility that refuses to receive such aid, and only seeks to enforce its own will, is obstinacy, not decision. When, however, we have brought all foreign helps into connection with our own judgment, and have thus formed the best conclusion we can in the time allowed, we must, as far as possible, dismiss further consideration and proceed to immediate action. In the less important details of daily life, we shall not greatly err in forcing ourselves to an im

mediate choice, though we may still question its wisdom. This self-compulsion will be most salutary, especially if we cultivate

the habit of revising our actions with a view to avoid in the future the mistakes into which we may have fallen."

S the blue-bird is the bird of spring, the turkey may be regarded as in some sense typical of winter, since at this season people direct their attention gastronomically to him. Indeed, the flesh of the turkey is deemed specially toothsome in the winter, and is then frequently found upon the tables of the well-to-do, and at the holiday season he must be a poor man, indeed, who can not for once, at least, enjoy the good cheer of one for his family. But it is of the turkey in his native state we are to speak.

The wild turkey was once prevalent throughout the whole continent of North America, but the progress of civilization has limited its haunts now chiefly to the thickly wooded tracts of the Western States, and of the valleys of the Mississippi and Missouri. From the Atlantic States he has almost entirely disappeared.

Belonging to the order of Meliagris, of the Gallinacia, this bird may be

briefly described as being, when fullgrown, about four feet in extreme length, with a stretch of wing of nearly six feet. The female is about a foot smaller. The legs and feet are purplishred, the upper part of the back and wings a yellowish-brown, with a metallic luster, changing to deep purple, the tips of the feathers being broadly edged with velvet black. The lower part of the back and the tail coverts are of a

deep chestnut. The tail is banded with green and black, with a broad blackish band near the lower end. A tuft of small feathers protrudes from the breast, as in the illustration. The head is

small, the body being compact and well fleshed, and the legs long.

The wild turkey is not a migratory bird, or strictly gregarious, but from the necessity of hunting for its food, spreads itself through the country, assembling in considerable numbers in the district where food is found most abundantly. It feeds on grain, berries, and vegetable substances, and, except during the breeding season, the sexes remain quite

apart. It is very early in spring that their association begins, actuated by the instinct of propagation, and, like our domestic fowls, several hens follow a favorite gobbler, roosting in his neighborhood until they begin to lay, when they withdraw from his resort to save their eggs, which he would destroy if discovered. The eggs number from ten to fifteen, of a whitish color, and covered with small red spots. The hen shows a good deal of caution in the location of her nest, and in the method of approaching it. She seldom abandons the nest, even when persecuted, her attachment increasing with the growing life of her brood. The young increase rapidly in size, and in a few months are quite independent of their parent, and able to roost in the higher branches of

exhibit much shrewdness, and take many precautions to avoid their persecution.

The wild turkeys weigh commonly from fifteen to eighteen pounds, and very frequently as much as twentyfive, or even thirty pounds; the hen being a much smaller bird is lighter in weight.

The male wild turkey acts in a manner very like that of the domestic bird, especially during the breeding season, strutting with expanded tail, spreading his wings, and prancing about with a very proud and haughty air, now and then uttering his harsh, indescribable cry.

The turkey is of American origin; was not known in Europe until the sixteenth century, when it was sent from Mexico to Spain, and introduced into England during the reign of Henry the Eighth.

NE of the most remarkable cases

ONE

of brain lesion on record, and at the same time most interesting on account of its bearings on Phrenology, was that of Byron Wright, of Waterloo, Iowa, who died on the 26th of July, 1875, from the effects of a pistol-shot received two years and a half previously. Mr. Wright was a school teacher, about twenty-one years of age at the time of the shooting, having charge of the school at Cedar City, Iowa, and was boarding with the girl's mother. While seated at the breakfast-table one morning, the girl came up behind him, and holding a revolver near the back of his head, shot him, the ball entering the occipital bone in the upper part of the organ of Philoprogenitiveness, a little to the left of the cerebral falx, or

The

part of the dura mater which separates the hemispheres of the brain. course of the ball after entering was nearly forward, but tending a very little upward and to the left, and lodg ing at a distance of 3 inches from the surface.

As soon as Wright discovered that he was shot, he got up from the table and attempted to go out of the house, but was prevented by a young German. Mr. Wright said that he wished to go out into the fresh air, but the German told him that he would not let him go out. He then went to the window, and while breathing the fresh air as it came through an aperture, the German took the revolver and shot him a second time, the ball entering in front of the left ear, below the sphenoid bone,