written during these winter holidays several papers on Ant Life," "The Medical Botany of Florida," etc. His health has latterly improved year by year, and now at the age of 61 his form is robust, his step vigorous, his sleep excellent, and his abundant hair but lightly sprinkled with silver threads. He inherited from his mother the poetic faculty, and his writings on secular themes are marked by an intense love of nature and her beautiful mysteries. His favorite authors are Thoreau, Emerson, Abbott, John Burroughs, Maurice Thompson, and Grant Allen, in the way of naturestudies; Thomas Hardy, Dickens, Ebers, Tourguenief, Boyesen, and Valdes, among novelists; Darwin, Mill, Lubbock, Wallace, Bates, J. G. Wood and Rev. McCook, the historian of ants and spiders, among scientists. Every man is likely to have certain fads or foibles. Dr. Hale's especial love for cats is well known. His companion for thirteen years was a magnificent Persian cat whose memory is now perpetuated by a portrait in stained glass in one of the library windows. The walls of the library and office are thickly covered with pictures of cats, and Dr. Hale has written a popular brochure on the "Cat, its History and its Diseases." Dr. Hale has resided on the corner of Prairie Avenue and 22d street, Chicago, for twenty-five years. At the time he built his unpretentious frame house there, 22d street was the southern city limits and was called Ringgold Place, and there were only a few cottages on the whole length of it, from the lake to the river. On the same site he has lately built a fine block of houses reserving the corner for his own use, and the neighborhood is one of the most thickly populated and handsomely built up in the city of Chicago. Although never a politician, he has always taken great interest in public affairs. He has been careful always to avoid speculations, or anything that would distract from his professional duties, which no eminent medical man has ever attempted without great detriment to his professional usefulness. He is a member of the Chicago Academy of Science, to which he has contributed papers in his own lines of thought from time to time; he is also a member of the American Institute of Homeopathy, of which he was made a senior at their last meeting in 1890; also of the Homeopathic Medical Societies of Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Indiana and Michigan, and an honorary member of the State medical societies of New York, Massachusetts and many others. Although often invited, he has never allowed his name to be presented as candidate for any official position in any society, except that of chairman of the Bureau of Materia Medica, a position where he could work to advantage on his favorite subjects. He was one of the earliest members of the Chicago Literary Club and of the Calumet Club. His family consists of his wife, a married son and a widowed daughter and two grandchildren, all gathered beneath his hospitable rooftree. Amid those who love him best, peacefully he de cends the hill of life, looking back upon much usefulness, much labor and much prosperity, and forward to a probability of years of health, comfort and contentment. SEELYE A. WILLSON. MALTA. MR. SESSIONS' SUMMER IN EUROPE AND AFRICA, WE left Tunis in a blaze of glory on the night of the 14th, when fire works, illuminations, firing of cannon, and regular Fourth of July performances, as with us, was the order, including Arab horse dances on the plza, which was very interesting; a band of music would play and a halfdozen Arabs in costume, with spears and pistols, would perform with their horses in a wonderful manner. We took a train for La Goulette, the port of Tunis, about eight miles distant. This town, like Tunis, has been constructed entirely with the entirely with the materials from ancient Carthage, which lies a short distance beyond, and it is extending rapidly toward Carthage. We were kept awake all night by the noise of fire-works, firing of cannon, the noise of the drunken Arabs, and, worst of all, the mosquitoes. We go on board our steamer, "Aba el Kader,"-named after the father of the present Bey-for Malta. The steamer is from Marseilles, and is very clean and nice in all its appointments; there are but few passengers, and we each get a large stateroom. How we enjoy the delightful sea breeze, and the smooth sailing on the beautiful blue Mediterranean. At sunset the color of the water was such a dark, changeable blue, that had a painter attempted to put it on canvas, it would be considered by every one an exaggeration. We pass a large island (its name I do not remember) covered with green vineyards, with villas of the peasants dotted here and there over it, which looks very attractive. The island, is noted for its great wine-producing qualities. A banker from Tunis is on board and gives us much valuable information. He is a native of Tunis, and his family has lived there for many years before him. When he learned that we were Americans, he said, "I am glad to know you. I mar ried an American wife, a native of Delaware; she was traveling in Africa with her parents; we fell in love and she became my wife, and has never returned to her native land, but our sons were educated there. Our daughter is just married in Malta, and I am going to see her. We are going to America, and we should like to live in Southern California, we have heard such glowing accounts of the climate." I replied, "Why, our people come to Algiers and Tunis on account of your wonderful winter climate, but you want to go to California." It is the old story over again, "something better in some other place than where we are." Our conversation drifted upon the Arabs, and his experience with them. He said: "They are a remarkably kind and gentle race," "and not," I said, "like the wild and warlike race I had always imagined them to be." They make great boasts of what they can do, and are true Orientals in their speech and in their exaggeration of everything. He called to mind an incident that had occurred under his observation: An Arab was called by the former Bey (on account of something he had done to please the Bey) to fill an important position under the government. "The Arab changed his former costume for the robes of royalty, and I was present when he first appeared before the Bey in his grand costume; he made an eloquent speech upon receiving his appointment, such as an educated man of no other race could make-perhaps what we should call grandiloquent." This Arab became a trusted and popular officer, and gained quite a fortune. There came a change of rulers by death, and this Arab was deposed and his fortune all confiscated, but he went back to his plow, and assuming his native dress and manner, returned to his former position without a murmur. He says that they have a wonderful faculty of catching hold of eloquence of speech, but are superficial, and full of superstitition, necromancey, and sorcery. He calls on the present Bey, and is received kindly, but the impression that he gets of him is that he is a mere child; he tells him what his sorcerer predicted about the Crimean war, the German-Franco war, and other events that have transpired and that are to occur, and he has great faith in all these predictions coming to pass. No change can come to the Arabs until their girls are educated differently. They have the training of the children, and fill their heads. from earliest infancy with romance and superstition, and how can you expect anything else from such influences? This gentleman's wife visits the wives of the Bey and of the higher classes, and is always received kindly and asked to come often; she cannot speak Arabic, but takes some member of her household with her to act as interpreter. I asked him about the rule requiring the Arab women to cover their faces on the street and it; he said, "That is larger." "No," everywhere; not allowing any other The French, it seems to me, are gave me the price; I offered him one-half that amount, which he accepted. I wanted another just like 66 i: can approach, and are responded to by Our steamer. The usual rush of Our steamer to take passengers ashore, making such a terrible jargon of tongues that we have to get up in self-defense. The natives of Malta are Arabs, and their language is Arabic, differing a little from the Arabs in Africa. They can understand each other. Our hotel, the "Imperial," is a home-like and refreshing one. tioning his fingers, holding out two or three. "Only two, three black ones from the interior, very ignor- boats, looking like gondolas, come to ant." My friend, the banker, speaks Arabic, French, Italian and English well. The Arabs seem to hold him in high repute, and often say to him in great seriousness, 'You read the Koran and can know the true way; why will you neglect its teachings and go to hell?" One of the Arabs in high life met the Cardinal of Tunis, who, it is said, was an excellent man, and said to him, "You have everything; you are rich, educated and noble; why don't you get married? that is all that is lacking to make you happy." The Cardinal replied, shrugging his shoulders, "Oh, it is a sin." The Arab replied, "Why, your God got married and had a son whom you worship, why can't you get married like him ?? Our ride, to-day, passing old Carthage, the beautiful villas overlooking the bay and the mountains, across the bay, with Tunis and the villages in the distance, was grand and never to be forgotten. The air from the sea was delightful, so cool and restful after our hot ride through the desert-looking country of Algeria and Tunis, with the thermometer at 125°. We arrive at Malta at 6 a. m., and I am up early to see the villages on the Island as we pass. As we approach the Island it looks like Gibraltar (only not so high), with its rocks, its immense fortifications and bristling cannon, which are fired off as we We regret that we missed seeing in Tunis the cemetery where John Howard Payne was buried, and where a tree was planted by our friend, the banker, on his grave, where it re mains, although, as we well remember, his body was taken to Washington through the munificence of the late Mr. Corcoran, of Washington. Our banker says that he loved Payne very much, and that he died in his arms; that he was not a happy man, but was misanthropic and gloomy at times. But separated from home and friends, we can appreciate that grand song, so dear and appropriate to all who, like us, are so far away from home-"Home, sweet home! Payne's words have met a response in many an aching heart, and the tears will start as our thoughts reach across the sea to our dear ones at home, and we say to ourselves, "There is no place like home." Malta is a beautiful city; its streets are well built, and it looks like Paris, with its cream-colored store-houses, and business-like appearance. This |