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ELEVATED STATESMANSHIP—­INSOBRIETY THE BEST POLICY.

Sir JOHN MACDONALD, the Premier of Canada, though an eccentric leader, is a happy illustration of the most elevated statecraft.  “He has been drunk,” says the Toronto Globe, “for several days, and incapacitated for public affairs.”  Considering what Canadian affairs are (including Sir JOHN,) this does not follow.  Evidently it is not his policy to keep sober.  But Sir JOHN is often drunk, says the Globe; he was tight before Prince ARTHUR, and he rushes to the bottle whenever the Fenians give alarm.  Now this strikes us as very good policy.  It helps us to see how convenient it was for Sir JOHN to magnify a few O’BRIENS and O’SHAUGHNESSYS into an army with green banners, and how opportunely the Dominion became intoxicated with its fears.

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[Illustration:  A POWERFUL PROTECTOR.

Mother.  “WHY, ROSIE, HOW LATE YOU ARE TO-DAY!”

Rosie.  “YES, MA, BUT I COULDN’T HELP IT.  THERE WAS A POOR LITTLE GIRL AT SCHOOL WHO HAD NO ONE TO TAKE CARE OF HER, AND SO I HAD TO SEE HER HOME.”]

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COMIC ZOOLOGY.

Order-Reptilia.

THE VIPER.

The supposition that this snake prefers a file to any other species of nourishment is a vulgar error, and belongs to the same mendacious category as the stories that ostriches are fond of ten-penny nails and soldiers of hard tack.  It is true that old files are sometimes bitten by vipers in localities where these serpents abound, but in the lizard and hop-toad they usually find metal more attractive.  The viper, when in a state of repose, is of an olive-brown color; but, if trodden upon, turns rusty.  He is about twenty-four inches in length, as you may see by applying a two-foot rule to him, but it is a good rule to keep two feet away from him.  As a bosom friend he is not to be trusted—­a fact in natural history that was discovered many years ago by a green countryman, who got into a bad box by placing a viper on his chest.  It is a peculiarity of this serpent, that when held suspended by his posterior extremity he can not raise his head to a level with his tail.  In consequence of this provision in the economy of nature, he finds it as impossible to make both ends meet as if he were a human prodigal.  In this respect he presents a marked contrast to the hoop-snake, which has no more back-bone than a timid politician, and can put its tail in its mouth, and roll in any direction with the utmost facility.  The viper was at one time supposed to have an envenomed tongue, and although this error has been exploded, it is as well to avoid his jaw if possible, as, when irritated, he is very snappish.