A French medical man who has just died at the age of one hundred and seven, pledged his word to reveal the secret of his longevity, when no more, for the benefit of others.  It was stipulated, however, that the precious envelope containing the recipe for long life was not to be opened until he had been buried.  The doctor’s prescription, now made known, is simple enough; and easy to follow; but whether it is as available as he pretends, the Journal of Chemistry says, is extremely doubtful.  He tells his fellow-men, that, if they wish to live for a century or more, they have but to pay attention to the position of their beds.  “Let the head of the bed be placed to the north, the foot to the south; and the electric current, which is stronger during the night in the direction of the north, will work wonders on their constitutions, insure them healthier rest, strengthen their nervous system, and prolong their days.”  It is, he adds, to scrupulous attention to the position of his bed that he ascribes his longevity, the enjoyment of perfect health, and the absence of infirmity.

HOW THE INVENTOR PLAGUES HIS WIFE.

A facetious chap connected with one of our daily newspapers gave the following amusing burlesque on the trials of an inventor’s wife: 

“It is all very well to talk about working for the heathen,” said one, as the ladies put up their sewing, “but I’d like to have some one tell me what I am to do with my husband.”  “What is the matter with him?” asked a sympathetic old lady.  “William is a good man,” continued the first, waving her glasses in an argumentative way, “but William will invent.  He goes inventing round from morning till night, and I have no peace or comfort.  I didn’t object when he invented a fire escape, but I did remonstrate when he wanted me to crawl out of the window one night last winter to see how it worked.  Then he originated a lock for the door that would not open from midnight until morning, so as to keep burglars out.  The first time he tried it he caught his coat tail in it, and I had to walk around him with a pan of hot coals all night to keep him from freezing.”  “Why didn’t he take his coat off?” “I wanted him to, but he stood around till the thing opened itself, trying to invent some way of unfastening it.  That’s William’s trouble.  He will invent.  A little while ago he got up a cabinet bedstead that would shut and open without handling.  It went by clockwork.  William got into it, and up it went.  Bless your heart, he staid in there from Saturday afternoon till Sunday night, when it flew open and disclosed William with the plans and specifications of a patent washbowl that would tip over just when it got so full.  The result was that I lost all my rings and breastpin down the waste pipe.  Then he got up a crutch for a man that could also be used as an opera-glass.  Whenever the man leaned on it up it went, and when he put it to his eye to find William, it flew out