toward the antipodes of Belgium -the only answer I can give you is to quote from the old " Malbrouck "-" Dieu sait quand il viendra "- you know the rest. * * * You expect, no doubt, that I will tell you something about the savages of America. Here is how they stand in regard to education, which I know is a matter that interests you. The only school in which the Indian youth learn to form their head and heart, is the example of their elders. They give them no preceptors. In the family, the father has charge of the boys, the mother of the girls, and the old proverb, " like father like son," applies more strictly among the Indians than anywhere else. In general, great attention is paid to the physical development of the children and they are prepared from their tenderest infancy for the hardest kind of life. As soon as the child is born, in whatever season, regardless of the severest cold or the greatest heat, they at once plunge it several times into water. Then, suitably wrapped up, it is placed and entrusted in the hands of some other nurse than its mother. After the first week the parents take it back, and it is put into the cradle, or berceau - a machine that deserves to be patented, and which the little individual does not leave until he is able to walk. This is the simple construction of it - a small hide-covered board, about a foot longer than its little occupant. The child is placed upon it and tied tightly with bandages, beginning with the legs and covering it to the shoulders; they are made tightest about the loins and the pit of the stomach, in order to force out the chest as much as possible. Neatly arranged in this style, the little party occupies a place in the lodge, out of harm's way. When the weather is fine, he is set in the doorway of the lodge. If the nurse goes away, she hangs the cradle to the branch of a tree, where the baby warms himself tranquilly in the sun, or on hot days is in the shade, and is in no danger from dogs, wolves or snakes, which are often plentiful in the neighborhood. When they travel, the cradle is hung from the sad