A lady writing from Newport, R. I., says: "You were so kind about the 'wiggling' flowers of Centaureas, last year, that I venture to send you a queer, but comfortable, thing I found out this morning when, having remembered all my sins, I sat down to spend the morning weeping over a basket of onions, both red and white, for pickles. I found they might have been so many turnips for any pain or discomfort that arose from them, for the brilliant thought came to me, ' Peel and slice them under water,' which I did in a large dishpan, full almost to the brim of cool, but not uncomfortably cold water. No sore eyes, and happily, no odor whatever left on my fingers after they were just rinsed in soapy water. I had but one onion in at a time, but let the debris stay till it was in the way, and once or twice when the water became dirty, changed it. I hope this story of the kitchen will at least amuse you".