The year seems to be a most unusually hot one
everywhere. We quoted last week an account of the deaths in New York from heat-apoplexy, and the Lancet reports that iu India the heat has been intolerable, the thermometer in stations like Secunderabad— a hot place always—marking occasionally 107°, and 103° for fifteen continuous days. In Paris old residents declare that they are grilling, and can only live by bathing ; from Brussels we hear of 95° in the shade, and here in London—grey, cold, windy London—it has been 88°, and is at five o'clock on Friday above 80°, while the water in the public baths, without any aid from furnaces, has been 76°. You might as well bathe in oil. The heat lasts through the night too, till Londoners unable to eat, sleep, or work, are actually sighing for their customary weather, which they anathematize for the remainder of the year. That county Members with shady woods to return to should stay on in that stifl- ing room of the Commons—it was as hot on Thursday as if the temper of the House had infected the atmosphere—is a proof that public spirit is not yet extinct among us. What can a man do more than bear torture for his constituents ?
