Those tranquil moods of which we have twice spoken come over us with still increasing frequency. Little Pickle is certainly a very smart boy. We are giving him lessons in drawing; he comes on rapidly, but requires a great deal of attention. Our time passes peaceably enough in study and contemplation. Nix has procured us some more works of Brahminical lore. It is a curious religion, that of the Hindoos, resembling in many points Christianity. Nix declares, in his good-natured way, that we are more than half converted already, and threatens to send a missionary to reason us back from heathenism, as we need a minister badly. He is an exceedingly good-natured fellow is Nix, though a little broad, perhaps, at times, in his style of jocularity. Our readers are probably not aware that there is a certain form of vulgar humor known as a sell, which consists in inducing some person to ask you a question, and then giving some idiotic answer in reply. The other day Nix overtook us in Broadway. After talking a few minutes he exclaimed:

"Oh, by the way, I have a note for you," at the same time feeling vigorously in his pockets.

"When did you get it? Who is it from?" we inquired, with some earnestness, for we were expecting a letter from some one.

"Don't know—don't know," he replied, continuing to fumble in his pockets. "Ah, here it is."

At the same time grasping one hand, he placed in it an oat—one seed of the grain upon which horses and Scotchmen are fed.

Nix laughed boisterously, and told us we were sold. We don't see very much fun in it.

We have spent another pleasant evening at the Adams'. We mentioned in a recent chapter making some preparations for a little party they were about to give. Well, it went off very pleasantly indeed; there were no hitches and no awful pauses. Indeed, our own pleasure would have been unalloyed had it not been for the presence of one officious person with large whiskers, who (there are always one or more such persons in every assembly) obtruded his attentions too much on the ladies; we observed that Bud, amongst others, was quite embarrassed by them. She was too well bred, however, to allow him to perceive her vexations, though I must say I think there is is such a thing as carrying complaisance and self-abnegation too far.

The scientific gentleman with gold spectacles was there, and had an electrical novelty for us which attracted much attention. At first we supposed the gentleman named was giving Little Pickle lessons in skating, for he was directing that youth's movements as he shuffled up and down the hearth-rug in his slippered feet. Rather jealous for the credit of our pupil, we informed the spectacles that there was nothing in the way of skating he could teach Master Pickle, he being already a proficient in that art. To which he only replied:

"Put your knuckle to his nose."

Rather staggered by this request, which savored somewhat of the ruder style of badinage, and the very last thing we expected from the decorous gentleman of science, we replied, with just a shade of hauteur:

"Sir?"

"Put your knuckle to his nose."

"Really, I do not comprehend you."

"Put your finger to his nose and you will get a shock."

All this time Little Pickle was sliding and slithering up and down the rug in a manner highly calculated to wear out that costly piece of furniture.

"You perceive," continued spectacles, in an explanatory way, "that he has slippers on his feet. By keeping his feet in close contact with the rug, and rubbing them violently up and down, he generates electricity in his body to such an extent that he can transmit quite a sensible shock to another person.[A] Now try!"

We tried. Tick! A most unmistakable spark passed from the nose of L. P. to our knuckle.

The guests now began to crowd round, applying their knuckles to the poor boy's nose to that extent that it grew quite red, which, combined with a trifling unsteadiness his legs acquired from the unusual exertion, gave the dear boy quite a groggy appearance. Indeed, we observed his mother soon after draw him towards her and, stooping down, whisper something in his ear, at which he colored up, shook his head, and replied quickly, "No, only lemonade."

The scientific person, who was really a very amiable gentleman after all, taught us during the evening to make quite a curious little toy—to wit, a miniature camera. Having enlisted the services of Little Pickle, he procured a small pill-box, a minute fragment about half an inch square of broken looking-glass, and a fragment of beeswax. He first bored a small hole in the centre of the lid of the pill-box and another in the side; he then, with the aid of the beeswax, stuck the piece of the mirror across the bottom of the box at an angle of forty-five degrees to the axis of the disc of the box, so that by looking through one hole he could see objects through the other hole, thus enabling a person to look behind him. We feel that this description is not very clear, and yet for the life of us we do not know how to make it clearer. The best plan for the reader will be to look well at the diagrams showing the inside and outside of the camera, get the wax, glass, and pill-box, and then potter about with them till he gets it right.