" I was travelling last week," writes a correspondent, "by a railway on the English side of the borders of South Wales, when we happened to pass a field spangled with a most luxuriant growth of mushrooms. I had hardly remarked the circumstance to my companion, when we felt the train suddenly stop, and looking out to the front, we saw, to our astonishment, the driver jump off the engine, vault the fence, and proceed to fill his hat with the treasure. In a moment the guard was over the fence, following his example, which, as may be supposed, was infectious, for in less than half a minute every door was thrown open, and the field covered with the passengers, every one of whom brought back a pretty good hatful. Not till this desirable result was attained, did we proceed on our journey, some of us wondering whether we had been dreaming, and whether, instead of the Welsh border land, we were not travelling by some newly constructed forest line in the far West of America. We begged the guard, who didn't seem quite comfortable about the joke, to have the place entered for the future in his line of route, as the " Mushroom Station." - Guardian.

[This, certainly, is a pleasing picture of railway travel in England, and reminds us of a railway that used to run between Hudson and Berkshire, which on one occasion, we remember, stopped to enable one of the passengers to pick up his hat! - Ed. H].