PHILADELVINGS.

It would be a good thing for New Yorkers, when they feel a little dull, to take a run over to Philadelphia and be amused. The good Quakers have all the hail-holes in their windows mended now, and they are as lively as ever. Among other things, they have two rival variety theatres, "Fox's" and the "Chestnut;" and the efforts of each of these to excel the other creates the greatest excitement among the young Broadbrims. Each establishment is continually adding something new and wonderful to its attractions. A week or so ago the weather was very warm, and the vegetable theatre announced that it was the coolest place in the city. The next week it was damp and cold, and the animal establishment declared that its building was the hottest in town. One has adanseusewho spins around so fast that she bores a hole in the floor of the stage with her toe; and to emulate this, the other produces sixty danseuses, all imported from Europe, who spin around so fast that you cannot see them at all. They are all there on the stage, but from the rising to the falling of the curtain, their velocity is such that they are absolutely invisible. The one announces no tedious waits; the other no tiresome measures. Fox guarantees no jokes of his stale; but this statement is ridiculed in the Chestnut bur-letta. The one advertises itself as the cradle of wit, but the other does not abate its scoffin' a whit. The one has a fountain of real water and MORLACCHI; while the other would have the Gulf Stream, if it did not lack MAURY.

But these are not the only peculiarities of Philadelphia amusements. A short time ago, the Conchological Society of that city gave a concert. Did anybody ever hear of a Conchological Concert before? This affair was a success, owing, perhaps, to its novel programme. "Shells of Ocean" was of course sung as a solo, a duet, and a chorus; and SHELLEY'S "Nightingale" was set to music and played as a 'cello solo. A variation, for the piano, on CRABB ROBINSON'S diary, was also given. The "Conquering Hero" was sung, and indeed the music dealers declared that to furnish suitable selections for the performers at this concert, they had stripped their shelves. Many of the "Hard Shell" Baptists took an active part in the affair, and SHELTON MCKENZIE was one of its principal supporters. It is pleasant to learn that the proceeds of the concert were satisfactory, for the members of the society were obliged to shell out liberally in order to get it up. A little disturbance was created at one time, by an unruly boy, who became clamorous for anencore,and remonstrances only made the young cub boisterous, but one of the officers threatening to knock him higher than a conchite on Mount Lebanon, he quieted down. The hall was illuminated bytentaculites, and presented a brilliant appearance. Most of the audience resided out at Chelton Heights, and a heavy rain, which came up after the performance, made them very glad to reach the shelter of their homes.

The Presbyterians had a lively time among the Quakers for a couple of weeks. As they are now a united body, "Old School" and "New School" are things of the past. But it must not be supposed that reference is made to old SCHOOL of theEvening Star. He is not a thing of the past; and it is one of the pleasantest recreations of the Philadelphians to sit at their front windows and listen to his thirty thousand newsboys sing together their vesper hymn—"Star of the Ee-e-e-vening! Doub-ull-sheet-Star!"

Another peculiarity of Philadelphia is the way it utilizes its Fire Department. Not long ago, a company of firemen, returning from a fire, beheld a man trying to break into a house. The company immediately comprehended that it was its duty to arrest that man. And so the Head Man he blew his horn, and away they went, "apparatus" and all, after the burglar, who had now taken to his heels. The bells rang, the men shouted; and amid cries of "Sock her down, boys! Roll her, boys, roll her! Hi! yi! yi!" the novel chase went on. But, as they could not overtake the fleet-footed thief, a stream of water was played upon him, but without stopping him. A hook-and-ladder company now coming up, an effort was made to clap a ladder against the fugitive, but it could not be done. And, after all, he escaped.

But to prevent too great an emigration of "the dangerous class" to Philadelphia, it may be stated that that city does not rely entirely upon its Fire Department to catch its thieves.

006.jpg (290K)

007.jpg (227K)

The bull-frog weighing six pounds, recently captured at Bedford, Ind. has been forwarded to the office of Punchinello, where it may now be seen without charge. We have made arrangements with Mr. Gilmore, late of the late Boston Coliseum, to put this fine artist through a regular musical course, and he will appear in the orchestra at the New-York Beethoven Festival, in a new overture entitled "The Music of the Marshes." This piece will contain several obligato passages written expressly for our Bull-Frog. After this, we shall challenge Mr. GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN to compete in public speaking with the Frog of PUNCHINELLO, for a purse of $20,000—Mr. TRAIN to speak ten minutes solo; the Frog to croak ten minutes; and then both to speak and croak in duet also for ten minutes—the most sonorous performer to take the money.

007b.jpg (78K)

Maud Miller.—Move to Chicago and get a divorce. No doubt the Judge would take the hint.

Algernon Sw-nb—ne.—We are obliged to decline your contribution. The verses are very pretty, but the morals of our paper must be preserved.

U.S.G.—The expression, "The United States is at peace," is ungrammatical, but you did perfectly right in writing to Punchinello before believing it.

Susan B. Anth-ny.—You are mistaken. DARWIN nowhere mentions any process of natural selection by which a woman may in time become a man.

Hon. Benj. Disraeli.—The expression, "I will put a head on you," which you say Prof. G-LDW-N SM-TH uses in a cable dispatch to you, is merely a slang phrase which he has probably learned from his trainer.

Payne Collier.—There is more than one Irishman in SHAKSPEARE. It appears from the text ofHamletthat he was on the most friendly terms with the "melancholy Dane," from the familiar way in which the latter addresses him:

Ham."Now might I do it, PAT."(Hamlet, Act III, Scene III.)

It is impossible to say now whether the PAT in question was a Fenian or not.

Jack Ketch.—We think that listening to a debate in the House of Representatives may fairly be considered the worst form of Capitol punishment.

Potter.—No, no. COLENSO was born in England. Though he was Bishop of Natal, it was not his Natal place.

Poetaster.—Was not HAFIZ a Persian poet.

Answer.—Yes. Poor fellow! he spent HAFIZ life in making rhymes.

J. F.—y.—Rumor says that Mr. W.B. OGDEN intends to defer commencing to build the Central Underground Railroad until the new Court House is finished.

Mr. THURLOW WEED, in an entertaining article in theGalaxyfor May, sheds some long-desired light on the origin of the term "governor," as employed by filial affection to denote the paternal parent. On reading this, we were instantly reminded of a little bit of historical philology which Mr. FROUDE has somehow strangely omitted to chronicle in that portion of his delightful romance which is founded on the life of ELIZABETH. This somewhat distinguished lady, in company with Mrs. STOWE, GRACE DARLING, RALEIGH, Dr. FRANKLIN and others, was once taking tea by special invitation in the back parlor at Kenilworth, when the conversation turned on boating. RALEIGH, who, from his experience, was quite at home on that topic, playfully wagered his best peaked ruff that LEICESTER could not prevail on either of the ladies there present to venture with him on the lake in his new ten-oared lap-streak wherry. The Earl was roughly piqued by this taunt, being secretly proud of his aquatic accomplishments, and, turning hastily to the Queen, he remarked:

"And yet the lady lives who ventures wheresoever I may lead."

"Prithee, brave Earl," interrupted the Queen, in high dudgeon, "will you impart to us her name?"

An awkward pause ensued, when LEICESTER, fixing his aquiline eye piercingly upon ELIZABETH'S face, replied, in a tone of the deepest respect, "YOU, BET!"

This expression has ever since held its place as a maxim of polite conversation.

An Irrational Proceeding

Sending Fenians to Canada without Rations.

THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.

WATTS PHILLIPS has written a comprehensive drama, entitled NOT GUILTY, and the managers of NIBLO'S GARDEN have produced it. Comprehensive is the best word with which to describe it, since it comprehends an epitome of English history at home and in the colonies during, a period of ten years, together with observations on prison discipline, and the recruiting system, interspersed with comic songs and jokes translated from the Sanscrit. It is a complete guide in morals and manners for the young soldier, the intelligent convict, and the aspiring thief. It is well, it is as follows:

ACT I.Curtain rises upon aRECRUITING SERGEANTsinging an unintelligible song to an admiring group of recruits, consisting of six girls with commendable ankles, and several supes of average awkwardness. The song ended the recruits retire, and theSERGEANTsits down to drink withROBERT ARNOLD,a virtuous locksmith. EnterSILAS GARRETT.

SILAS. "I will pretend to be drunk. There is no reason why I should, but still it's a good bit of business."Staggers and falls onARNOLD.

ARNOLD. "Wretched being! He deserves nothing, and I will therefore give him my last half-crown. Now, SERGEANT, I will enlist. Let us go and sing more unintelligible songs."They go. EnterMRS. ARMITAGE.

MRS. ARMITAGE. "I am starving. My child has eaten nothing for years. Oh, sir, give me something!"

SILAS. "Not I. Go and work. Don't touch me; you look as if you had been riding in a street car."Rushes away as though pursued by the wicked flea.

MRS. ARMITAGE. "There is no hope. I will die."Dies.

EnterARNOLD. "Hallo. Do I see a woman? What is the matter, my exhausted friend? Please come to life again!" (She comes to life.)

MRS. ARMITAGE. "Neither my child nor I have tasted food for vast and incalculable periods. Help me."

ARNOLD. "I will." (Helps her home, and rushes out to beg. He successfully strikes a casual supe for five pounds, and remarks)—"Now she is saved. I will buy a doll for the child. They can make porridge of the internal bran."He goes for the doll, andSILASre-enters.

SILAS. "Here are ARNOLD'S skeleton keys. I will steal them, and rob the man in the opposite house."Robs him and is pursued by the police.

Scene 2d. MRS. ARMITAGE'Sgarret. Enter that interesting and hungry lady.

MRS. ARMITAGE. "My child is dead; I will die too." (Dies.)

EnterARNOLD. "Here is a doll and other delicacies. Come to life again and eat them."They come to life and retire to the hall for feasting and revelry. EnterSILAS.

SILAS. "The police are after me. There is not a moment to lose. I will therefore stop for an hour and arrange things so as to ensure ARNOLD'S arrest, and will then escape through the scuttle." (He arranges things and then scuttles away. Enter police, after ten minutes of preliminary howling on the staircase, and discoveringARNOLD'Sskeleton keys, arrest him.) Curtain.

Everybody in the audience. "I don't begin to see into the plot yet, but we shall in time."

ACT II.Scene, the Quarries, with convicts at work. They make elaborate motions with picks at white rocks, and thus dig out considerable black slate. SILAS has become a Warden, no one knows how. The convicts sing and enjoy themselves, with the exception of ARNOLD, who evidently finds prison life too gay and frivolous. Mrs. ARMITAGE, who has become a fashionable lady—no one knows how-enters with a procession of nice girls to watch the joyous prisoners. A COMIC CONVICT, with a fine sense of the fun of the thing, proposes a mutiny. Convicts all mutiny, and ARNOLD and his comic friend escape. They take refuge in a busy highway, and the COMIC CONVICT sings comic songs in order to prevent the police from approaching them. The police—having some little musical taste, wisely keep at a distance. The two convicts rob a drunken soldier of his uniform, and, disguised as officers, go to India. The drunken soldier is arrested as an escaped convict and dragged to prison. The entire population of Great Britain embark for India in a neat pasteboard steamer. Exasperating drums beat until the audience becomes too much confused to notice the astounding evolutions of the military. After a few hours of this sort of thing some intelligent carpenter mutinies and drops the curtain.

Everybody in the audience. "I don't begin to see into this plot yet, but we shall in time."

ACT III.—Scene, a garden in India. The heroine who has been locked up during the previous acts, by her aunt, escapes from a window by means of a ladder. She displays much agility, but not a glimpse of ankle. Consequent disappointment in the audience. Enter ARNOLD—now a captain—who makes love to her. Enter COLONEL WILLOUGHBY, and at her earnest request promises not to marry her. The rebellious Sepoys—who are quite white—attack the GARIBALDI Guard of British Italians, who are quite dark. Sudden arrival of SILAS, much out of breath through having run all the way from England. WILLOUGHBY is killed, and SILAS, who looks precisely like him, (as indeed he ought to, inasmuch as CHARLES WALCOT plays both characters,) puts on his clothes—trousers excepted—and takes command of the troops. A pitched battle with fire-crackers—which are pitched promiscuously on the stage—takes place, with a pleasing slaughter of the white-faced Sepoys. The drummers become obviously frantic, and beat their drums as though they were beating the managers out of a year's salary in advance. The single men of the audience, deafened by the noise, and choked by the smoke, rush out of the theatre for air. They return to find the curtain down, and the act ended.

Everybody in the audience. "I don't begin to see into the plot yet, but we shall in time."

ACT IV.—Scene, COLONEL WILLOUGHBY'Shouse in England. EnterCOMIC CONVICTand two old pals.

COMIC CONVICT. "I have found the Warden who used to cane us at the Quarries. We will have him soon."They hide behind a cabbage. EnterWILLOUGHBYandARNOLD.

ARNOLD. "You promised in India to let me marry the heroine."

WILLOUGHBY. "You lie, you villain, you lie."

ARNOLD, "My friend, you are sadly changed. Wait a moment, till everybody comes in and forms a neat group, and I will explain myself." (Everybody comes in and forms group.)

WILLOUGHBY, "You are a self-proclaimed liar. Proceed!"

ARNOLD. "You are not WILLOUGHBY. You are—"

COMIC CONVICT. "SILAS GARRETT, the man who stole the money which ARNOLD was thought to have stolen. Police, do your duty." (The police—not being the real thing, but only supes in police uniform—do their duty and arrestWILLOUGHBY.)Somebody remarks thatARNOLDisNOT GUILTY. COMIC CONVICTreceives a full pardon, and a matrimonial mania seizes upon everybody. About this time it occurs to the stage manager that the play might as well end. Accordingly it ends.

Everybody in the Audience. "I don't begin to see into the plot yet, but if some one would explain why Mrs. ARMITAGE became a fashionable lady with a fondness for looking at convicts; why SILAS became a Warden and afterwards went to India; why ARNOLD passed himself off upon his regiment as an officer, merely because he had stolen a private's clothes; why everybody, whether free or in prison, dead or alive, went to the Quarries, to India, and back again to WILLOUGHBY'S country-seat with unfailing unanimity; why, in short, things were as WATTS PHILLIPS assures us that they were, I might begin to have some idea of what the play is about."

But then—the undersigned would respectfully ask—what would one gain by understanding the play? He would find it noisy and tedious, even if it were intelligible. The admirable acting of Messrs. OWEN FAWCETT and F.F. MACKAY, in the slight and subordinate parts allotted to them, would still be overshadowed by the melodramatic absurdity of Mr. WALCOT. Miss IRENE GAY could not look prettier than she does, nor could Mrs. WALCOT be more thoroughly pleasing; but the drums would be just as intolerable, were the plot as plain as a strong-minded woman. And then, after all, there are many reasons why WATTS PHILLIPS, when unintelligible, is decidedly preferable to WATTS PHILLIPS when made plain to the weakest intellect.

MATADOR.

Most of the complimentary marble busts of departed heroes.

009.jpg (160K)

A few days ago PUNCHINELLO had occasion to call upon that most puissant chief of the tribe Tammany, known in the Indian vernacular as "Big Six." P. had a disagreeable presentiment that his path to the throne of this man's greatness would not be strewn with flowers. He had listened to the melancholy experience of others who went before and came away not only with blighted hopes, but soiled garments and abraded shins. Nevertheless, PUNCHINELLO felt that, as it was his duty, he would not be affrighted by the formidable character of the undertaking, but go and judge of the difficulties in the way for himself. Accordingly he went. Arriving within three hundred yards of the portal which conducted to the charmed circle where "Big Six" held court, he was not astonished at the spectacle of fourteen hundred Irishmen, twenty-seven Germans, and three boys, all crowding, in no little confusion, to get a glimpse of the space behind the door. The approach of PUNCHINELLO was announced by a portly policeman with a round red nose and a black eye, who hung upon the outskirts and occasionally cursed those Irishmen who seemed to forget the proprieties of the place by making such remarks as—

"Arrah, PADDY O'NEILL, will ye jist keep aff me toes, or be gorrah I'll giv' ye a clout in the shnoot."

"An' do ye take me for a fool, BARNEY RYAN, that I'd be afther lettin' ye do the like o' that?"

"Moind yersilves there!" "Howld yer tongues!" "May the divil ate yez! but the best of yez hashn't the manners of a pig!" Amid such pleasant ebullitions of Celtic amiability, PUNCHINELLO succeeded in carving his way to the door, when it suddenly opened, and a tall, lean, cadaverous man, who looked like the ghost of some Fenian leader, bawled at the top of his voice:

"Go an out o' this, all of yiz; Mr. TWADE won't see another of yiz this blissid day."

It seemed as though the crowd had only been waiting for this signal; for they gave one wild shout, and rushed through the open portal like a pent-up stream breaking its dam.

PUNCHINELLO felt himself lifted from his feet and whirled along with the current. Resistance was useless; but being in the van, he was the first to alight upon the middle of a table covered with papers, before which sat, in a large arm-chair, his eyes wide open with astonishment, and his face red with anger, the great Chief of Tammany.

PUNCHINELLO immediately extricated himself from this ridiculous situation by rolling on to the floor, with all the grace peculiar to him. Then, instantly rising, he grasped "Big Six" by the hand, exclaiming:

"Beg ten thousand pardons, sir, but it wasn't PUNCHINELLO'S motion that he should be laid upon the table."

"No, be Jabers," ejaculated an excited member of the throng; "but it's me, MOIKE FINNEY, that wud lay ye under it!"

"Will you hold your tongue!" shouted Big Six.

"I axes yer Honor's pardon, but be the sowl of me I couldn't help it, with that 'ere spalpeen sprawlin' ferninst me there among yer Honor's papers."

"Put these wretches out," said the Chief, with great dignity, to the officers in attendance.

"Mr. TWADE! Mr. TWADE! an' I have Altherman MOONEY'S wurd for it that ye had that job in the Parek fur me as shure as whiskey's whiskey, so I have," screamed a voice, growing louder as the officers obeyed the injunction of the Chief, and forced the crowd back.

"Och, murther! but I belave it's all a loi, now. I'll see MOONEY, so I will."

Perhaps a hundred such appeals, all at the same time, and all with more or less violence, were hurled at "Big Six," who grasped the back of his chair with the supreme indifference of a man accustomed to such experiences, and calmly surveyed the retreating horde until the last man disappeared across the threshold, and the doors were once again closed.

"I shall never forget this sight, sir," said PUNCHINELLO. "It's too much for good nature."

"Good nature!" exclaimed the Big Ingin, "why, my dear PUNCHINELLO, I haven't got any of it left. If I had, these cormorants would take me by violence every day in the week. No, no; good nature, indeed! We who sit for the distribution of the public patronage want brazen faces and cast-iron hearts. That's the only way a man can get along here, and if PUNCHINELLO should ever be so miserable as to go through with what I do, let him remember what I said about brazen faces and cast-iron hearts;" and then "Big Six," locking his arm in that of PUNCHINELLO, walked out of the office by a side door.

Miss MARY EDITH PECHEY, a surgical student of the Edinburgh University, complains of one of the professors of that institution, a Dr. CRUM BROWN. This crusty CRUM refuses to award her the HOPE scholarship, and offers her instead a medal of bronze. Miss PECHEY very properly characterizes this conduct as that of a brazen meddler who would deprive her of hope. The quarrel is not yet ended, but it strikingly illustrates the trouble a Crumb can give when it goes the wrong way.

Probably many of the present suffering monarchs of Europe, being of a superstitious turn, and given to the pondering of portents, will be much revived and stimulated by the news that an animal called "Kingcraft" has won the Derby against fourteen horses with more republican names. What astonishes Mr. PUNCHINELLO is, that a steed with such a name should be reported as having "behaved beautifully throughout the race." With Kingcraft he has not been accustomed to associate the beautiful, but, on the other hand, quite the contrary andvice-versâ. Still, it must be admitted that in these latter days, the craft of Kings has frequently been demonstrated by their talent for running; and nobody can have forgotten the remarkable time made on his leaving France, by the fugitive LOUIS PHILLIPPE. When Monsieur L.N.B.'s turn comes he will find it hard work to beat his predecessor.

CONDENSED CONGRESS.

Senator MORTON was wrought up about the sufferings of the Jews in Roumania. It might be said that it was none of his business, but he begged to state that many of his constituents were Jews. Under these circumstances he felt it to be the duty of his blood to boil over the recital of the wrongs of the Jews in Roumania.

Mr. SUMNER was of the opinion that it was a gross outrage, as he also had some Jewish constituents, but as they were not very numerous, the shrewdness of the Massachusetts Christian being ordinarily an overmatch for the shrewdness of the 'Ebrew Jew, his blood only simmered softly over the intelligence. But he had an interest in the question of eternal justice involved, and he was free to say that it was not correct to fry, boil, or in any way cook a Jew as a Jew. Mr. SUMNER then sent to the clerk's desk, and had read the statements of Shylock, which, he observed, were written by the immortal SHAKSPEARE, relative to the endowment of the Israelite with the usual limbs and features of other members of society.

Mr. SPRAGUE mentioned that the Jews were persecuted because they were rich. If the Senate were to allow this sort of thing to go on unrebuked, the whole population of Rhode Island might say of their solvent Senator, "Come, let us kill him, and the Pequashmeag Mills shall be ours." Let the Senate think what an awful privation that would be.

This completely overcame the Senate, and it passed resolutions of inquiry and indignation.

The Indian question came up, closely followed by THAYER, (of Nebraska,) who observed that his constituents had the most rooted objection to being scalped, and that they did not even contemplate with pleasure the prospect of having their horses stolen or their habitations burned down. These feelings were perhaps culpable, but certainly natural, and he wished the Senate would consider them, if it had any sensibilities to spare from the wrongs of the red man.

Mr. MORTON said that he remarked the proceedings of the children of the forest rather in sorrow than in anger. The forefathers of his eminent friends, Scalper of the Pale Face, Stealer of Horses, and Blinker at the Inn, had possessed this continent, and he would not be willing to say that they had not shown as much sense as the present Congress in governing it. If the remembrance of their former glories occasionally instigated them to impale babies and scalp women, we ought to remember the beautiful hymn which begins, "Speak gently to the erring," and give them whiskey and gunpowder, instead of treating them with harshness.

Mr. FERRY was informed that an American citizen had been imprisoned in St. Domingo, and kept there at the suggestion of a United States officer, for fear he should divulge matters prejudicial to the little game for the annexation of that island.

Mr. CHANDLER said any man who objected to that proposition was a vile scoundrel who ought to be imprisoned. If he had his way he would have him hanged. The man who defended such a movement was no better than himself. The annexation of St. Domingo would lead as to perfect bliss, and the man who objected to it would murder his aged mother, or even oppose going to war with Great Britain.

Mr. SCHENCK remarked that his tariff bill had been beaten, but that he would introduce another bill, which he did. The other bill is the same bill, except that the duty on medullary sutures is reduced one cent per million, and the duty on participial adjectives is increased one per cent,ad valorem, which, as SCHENCK observed, would not bear heavily upon Congressmen.

Mr. COVODE said this bill ought to be passed, because his colleague Mr. WOODWARD, was in sympathy with the red-handed rebels who had tried to displace him, Mr. COVODE.

Mr. WOODWARD wanted to know what COVODE was talking about.

The speaker called Mr. WOODWARD to order, upon the ground that it was notorious that COVODE never talked about anything, and it was unparliamentary and insulting for one member to interrupt another while making a confidential communication to his constituents.

Mr. COVODE further remarked that the bill ought to be passed because all the members who did not agree with him in his estimation of his usefulness were opposed to it.

This affected the House to tears, and they passed the bill, SCHENCK and KELLEY fell upon one another's neck and exchanged tokens of Ohio pig-iron and Pennsylvania coal.

"Home again—home again—From a foreign shore!And oh, it fills my soul with joy,To greet my friends once more."[It does, indeed!]I bring you no new song, my friends,I wear no fancy clothes;I know you love me for myself,For I believe your oaths!I feel I'm lovely! When I comeFor once you're blest indeed.I know I'm all in all to you;For me you gladly bleed!Oh, yes! I am a thing of joy!My tones are passing sweet;I thrill you with my melodySo simple, yet complete!"Ah! there he is!" you softly cry,And breathless watch my flight—Unless, indeed, I have you there,By coming in the night!It is not every visitorWho brings a band along!Who celebrates his friendlinessIn melody and song!It is a graceful compliment,Which I can well affordTo those who gladly welcome me—And furnish all my board!A serenade at dewy eve—How grateful to the sense!Who stays to calculate the cost—The paltry recompense!"What cheerful little sprite is thisThat carols as he goes?"—You'll learn, my pretty one! when IAlight upon your nose!I would not plead for robbery,I would not use deceit;And yet, 'tis plain to candid minds,Philanthropists must eat!I dare not taste the juicy grape;But Nature bids me seeThe blood that first was wine in youMay turn to wine in me!'Tis but a tiny drop—a speck,—One sip is all I've quaffed!My plethoric old Wall street friend,Was it an over draft?Say rather that you took my stockTo "bear," as oft before,And now are scratching round to raiseA margin for some more!

"Home again—home again—From a foreign shore!And oh, it fills my soul with joy,To greet my friends once more."[It does, indeed!]

I bring you no new song, my friends,I wear no fancy clothes;I know you love me for myself,For I believe your oaths!I feel I'm lovely! When I comeFor once you're blest indeed.I know I'm all in all to you;For me you gladly bleed!

Oh, yes! I am a thing of joy!My tones are passing sweet;I thrill you with my melodySo simple, yet complete!"Ah! there he is!" you softly cry,And breathless watch my flight—Unless, indeed, I have you there,By coming in the night!

It is not every visitorWho brings a band along!Who celebrates his friendlinessIn melody and song!It is a graceful compliment,Which I can well affordTo those who gladly welcome me—And furnish all my board!

A serenade at dewy eve—How grateful to the sense!Who stays to calculate the cost—The paltry recompense!"What cheerful little sprite is thisThat carols as he goes?"—You'll learn, my pretty one! when IAlight upon your nose!

I would not plead for robbery,I would not use deceit;And yet, 'tis plain to candid minds,Philanthropists must eat!I dare not taste the juicy grape;But Nature bids me seeThe blood that first was wine in youMay turn to wine in me!

'Tis but a tiny drop—a speck,—One sip is all I've quaffed!My plethoric old Wall street friend,Was it an over draft?Say rather that you took my stockTo "bear," as oft before,And now are scratching round to raiseA margin for some more!

THE MEN WHO ADVERTISE. New York: NELSON CHESMAN.

This is a very useful book of reference. In addition to biographical sketches of certain shrewd men who know the value of advertising and of being advertised—it contains an American Newspaper Rate Book, and an American Newspaper Directory. The book is neatly and substantially got up by G.P.

011.jpg (220K)012.jpg (269K)

Back to Index Next