baby. I put my thumb on my nose at them, and 1 boy kicked me, and the boys who approved of me let me to kick him. This is true, but a few is fun. I have nothing to tell you more.'

'Do you not remember,' asks our correspondent, the time when 'a new thick boots for rains and snows' made you also happy? The little fellow's allusion certainly brought back forcibly my own youthful raptures on the same account. How graphic, too, the writer's description of our friends, the Hibernians! The election is not so far passed by, but that here we have a vivid recollection of a few men who is Paddy,' breaking windows, and heads too, in our Seventh Ward.' your eye and throw it' over the following. vice, in a very brief compass:

READER, Suppose you' take

It contains a world of good ad

'Seek not, in MAMMON's worship, pleasure,
But find your richest, dearest treasure
In books, friends, music, polished leisure:
The mind, not sense,

Make the sole scale by which ye measure
Your opulence.

'This is the solace, this the science,
Life's purest, sweetest, best appliance,
That disappoints not man's reliance,
Whate'er his state;

But challenges, with calm defiance,
Time, fortune, fate.'

If you do n't think of all this now, you will by and by, when you reach the viaduct which crosses beneath the River of Death, and is known as ‘The Turn of Life;' when the human system and powers, having reached their utmost expansion, begin either to close like flowers at sunset, or break down at once. WE laughed, not long ago, with a thousand other Americans, at the manner in which the London Times was hoaxed by 'Mr. ARROWSMITH,' of Liverpool, in his story of the six duels fought from a Georgia rail-road train in a single trip. As 'The Times' never retracts, this fabulous account will doubtless pass into history. This 'sell' recalls to mind a circumstance of a somewhat similar character, which was exposed one pleasant Sunday in our town-sanctum. A young and talented Englishman, who had recently arrived, called upon us on that day, with a letter of introduction from a friend in London. He was a handsome, pleasant, enthusiastic, gossipping person, who knew every prominent literary man and woman, and every distinguished actor and actress, in Great Britain, and gave numerous anecdotes of each and all of them. In short, he made himself extremely agreeable. After dinner, while we were all in the sanctum, he asked permission to read us a few of his 'first impressions,' as he came up the bay one glorious day, etc. He did so, describing the scene with a faithful and glowing pencil. At length he came to a passage something like the following: 'When we reached the lower end of this truly magnificent thoroughfare, Broadway,) the first thing which attracted our attention was a small oval park, called 'Bowling-Green,' in the centre of which was playing a large fountain, the falling water tumbling, with great splash and splatter, over a picturesque column of rough and ragged rocks. This fountain, which is called the 'Bowling-Green Horse-Fountain,' is erected over the spot where

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many years ago were buried, with appropriate ceremonies, the remains of the horse which General Andrew Jackson rode at the Battle of New-Orleans!' We looked at Dame KNICK- our kind of glance was returned. It was too much. It was impolite, we know: but we burst into a laugh matter: 'we recollex it yet!' 'Who in creation,' we asked of our wondering guest, 'could have given you that information?' 'A very polite and respectable-looking person,' he replied, 'who was leaning over the railing, of whom I asked a few questions, as I was pencilling some memoranda in my note-book. He walked up Broadway with me, and told me many other things, connected with the city and its public edifices.' And the wag did, too, it would seem: among the rest, that the ASTOR-House was originally an hospital, and that many of its 'wards' were still in operation! We undeceived our new friend, and put him on his guard for the future. 'You are a queer people, d'ye kno,' said he, 'after all.' We admitted the fact, as quite undeniable! OUR old friend Captain FOLGER, late of the Old Seventy-Six House,' at Tappaäntown, of which our readers have more than once heard, is now at the head of 'Folger's Knickerbocker Hotel,' lately occupied by P. Riker HerrING, near the village of Piermont, which is not only large and commodious, but is being decorated, ornamented, and picture-fied beyond example, for an hostel of its character. All the choice edible and potable wants of man he promises to supply, served up in the best manner; nor has he forgotten the animals: his 'stabling accommodations not being excelled by any in the county of Rockland.' Aside from paintings, engravings, wonderful and rare agricultural productions, etc., which garnish his capacious 'refreshment-room,' the place is a perfect Museum in itself. Among these you shall find such authentic objects of interest as the following: An Old Trumpet, exhumed at Bunker-Hill, while making excavations for the great monument, (presented by J. MACLEOD MURPHY, Esq., of Brooklyn Navy-Yard ;) the old 'Washington Stone-Basin,' often washed in by himself and his officers, at the old Head-Quarters in Tappaän town; an elaborately-carved Powder-Horn, captured at Stony-Point; articles picked up on the 'Massacre-Ground' at old Tappaän, which belonged to the old Continental Troopers: nails from ANDRÉ's coffin, and other objects of great revolutionary interest; Indian weapons, implements, and trappings; with many more things alike 'curious' and unmentionable at this present the whole forming a unique collection. Captain FOLGER is a deservedly popular landlord, and The Knickerbocker Hotel' will prove a commodious and well-kept house. We do not know how it may strike others, but this slight incident, in a metropolitan criminal court, eight years ago, 'hit us.' A poor woman, whose boy had been sentenced to a long term at the Penitentiary, for some not-well-proved offence, said: 'Won't YOUR HONOR give him a shorter term? He is a good boy to me, YOUR HONOR he always was. I've just made him some nice new clothes, YOUR HONOR, which fit him beautiful;' (and she looked, as she said this, as only a MOTHER can look at her boy :) and if you give him a long time to stay in prison, the clothes won't fit him when he comes out for he's a growin' boy!' Poor MOTHER! she had saved much (for her)

from scant earnings, to clothe her boy 'like the neighbors' children.' This was too much for her son. He melted he wept he repented - he was forgiven. And he is now one of the most promising, enterprising, and honorable young merchants in our City. Every word of this is true, and known to be so to very many persons. MR. L. A. GODEY, publisher of 'The Lady's Book,' Philadelphia, writes us to say, that he is not to be ' counted in' among those in Philadelphia to whom the late EDGAR A. Por proved faithless, in his business and literary intercourse. His conduct toward Mr. GODEY was in all respects honorable and unblameworthy. The remark which elicits the note of Mr. GODEY was copied as a quotation into our pages from the 'North-American Review,' in a recent notice of

that venerable and excellent Quarterly. - - STEALING newspapers is an evil which our country contemporaries are often called upon to inveigh against, with all the energies of their nature.' But who ever heard, until now, of such a newspaper thief as is mentioned in the paragraph below? -a paragraph which we clipped from a far-western journal, the name of which we have not preserved, we are sorry to say:

'AN esteemed lady friend of ours, sent us word the other week that she did not get her paper. This intelligence was as strange to us as to our carrier. The paper was certainly thrown over her back-fence at seven minutes after seven, every morning of the year. Where did it go to? Determined to find out, we placed a sentry, flat on his epigastrium, with a SHARP's rifle and orders to bore a hole through any body who might invade the sanctity of a private back-yard to steal a newspaper. Must it, can it be believed! A bull-calf was found to come up regularly, and make a morning's meal out of it! The lady ordered the animal to be lassooed and brought before her; when he manifested so much sagacity by wagging his tail and giving other evidences of intelligence, that she bade Joux to take him down into the country.'

'Prick me that bull-calf till he roars!' would have been our order for the punishment of that culprit. WE understand that the Express Agents, in numerous localities, where choice butter, poultry, game, and country produce are abundant, are coöperating with our enterprising fellowcitizen, A. L. STIMSON, Esq., in supplying several hundred families and hotels in this city, this winter, with the above-named edibles, at the smallest possible advance upon the country prices. This is the commencement of an important reform, designed to abolish several superfluous grades of ' middle-men;' and our citizens ought to accord it their support promptly. In doing so, they will not only aid it, but serve themselves. Mr. STIMSON, at Number 3 Broadway, is already in daily receipt of excellent supplies of butter, poultry, venison, game, etc. FROM J. H. W.,' receiver at 'in the hand-writing of the

the Crystal Palace, we derive the following, author: '

Goodlettsvell Davidson City Tenn

TO THE CHRISTAL PALAS NEW YORK, N. Y. - I have under stood that you have all the fine arts of the world and what i want is to no the forse and power of the best pump and beles for Blowing and melting iron and raising water to any high i hav One in Constrution that super seedes any thing i ever saue in my life. i doant want to go no farther with it un till i find ought wether thear is sum of the same plan in Operration My pump acts with only one wheel for water or wind I wold like for you to send me the Best models you have in the palas, and if i shold Get a patent you shall bee remembered ancer as soon as you can

i hauve no dught but it will bee a benafet to the world i will give you a better history the next time. C. C. McC

Nov. 1st, 1856.'

Dr. NEHEMIAH

If 'CHRISTAL PALAS,' Esq., were to send to Mr. McC DODGE's improved pump, now come into such general use in ships, large factories, and other similar establishments, he would break his machine that 'acts with only one wheel,' and give up farther pump-improvements, for the present at least, in despair. THERE is something very touching, to our conception, in the 'Report of Rev. James Selkrig, Missionazy to the Ottawas, at Griswold:''a mission-station, so named by the BISHOP after that venerable soldier of CHRIST and leader of the hosts of the LORD, So well known and revered by the CHURCH, whose memory will brighten as time rolls on to the perfect day.' We annex a single passage. It should be premised that the writer is 'broken down with age and infirmity,' and that he has spent the best portion of his years in labors among the Indians:

"THE sun of the red man's glory has sunk behind the mountains of the west. There is but a remnant left, but that remnant are seeking to be guided to the hill of Zion by the LORD GOD of Sabaoth.

The band over which I was sent, have listened to the trumpet call of the Gospel; have put on their armor, and done battle on the field against sin, the world, and the devil, and all but one have come off conqerors through HIM that has loved them. The old bald-headed chief who met you and received the sacrament of baptism at your hands, fell by his enemy, and had a bloody death. The tall chief, his successor, died with victory on his lips; and his son, once a wild savage, bowed to the cross, and is an example of piety to his people. About twelve desire confirmation. They have been united in marriage according to the rites of the Church.

'Last February my interpreter perished in the snow, on a severe night, with his gun by his side, and open knife in his hand, trying to kindle a fire after a fatiguing day's hunt, and having returned almost to his camp, telling his companion to go on while he rested a little, and he would be in soon after; but not returning, his little daughter encountered the snow and the frost, and early in the morning found her father leaning against a stub, in his long, last sleep. He had been with us from the first. Our camp looked lonely; the pines around us seemed to sing his solemn dirge, and the tears dropped fast from the mourners' eyes, as they surrounded his corpse; for through him they had received those welcome notes that led them to see that they had offended the GREAT SPIRIT, and that He had cancelled their broken obligations by the purple current which streamed from the side of His dying SoN, while nailed to His cross. They are numbered among the faithful. I have given myself to their service in weal and in wo: but the battle of life with me is near its close; still I have deposited my trust where the hosts of Hell cannot break a bolt nor pick a lock. Our CAPTAIN has a 'safe' in the white stone, and a new name which no one knoweth but him who receiveth it.'

Of such were the early laborers in the LORD's vineyard; amidst privation and suffering, willing to spend and be spent,' if peradventure they might be made the means of bringing lost sheep into the fold. Of such, too, we may add, were Saint PAUL and his fellow-apostles. THE capable and appreciative literary critic of the 'New-York Daily Times,' in a deservedly commendatory notice of Messrs. Little, Brown and Company's Series of the British Poets and Essayists, (a superb collection, which every man, even of moderate means, may and should have in his library,) speaking of THOMAS HOOD, says: 'His poetical reputation was a flower that grew upon his grave. It is sad to reflect how unconscious the world was of the fine vein of poetry within the man. Sweeter cadences of the harmonious bells of feeling never vibrated in the human breast. He is known among the dearest of the immortals now.' All true: and yet it seems he was 'despised by THEODORE HOOK.' Was he? Well, he could afford to be despised by that professional joker, whose whole life was one great Trifle. The 'Dream of EUGENE ARAM,' 'The Bridge of Sighs,' and the 'Song of the Shirt,' will live

for centuries after Hook's long, prosy romances and premeditated puns are buried in the dust of oblivion. A PARTY of aerial adventurers who accompanied Mons. GODDARD in a recent balloon-ascension at Philadelphia, speak of the clearness of sound of all things earthly' that pervades the upper air, even at the height of ten thousand feet-the baying of a watch-dog, the cackling of hens, etc., being distinctly heard at that elevation. As we read the description of this aërial voyage, we thought of a passage in a sermon which we once heard from the eloquent lips of the Rev. ORVILLE DEWEY, at the Church of the MESSIAH,' in Broadway. He was speaking, if we remember rightly, of the influence of supplication, of prayer, to the great SOURCE of all Good: and illustratively in effect said: 'It has been assumed by certain philosophers, that no voice which rises from the earth is lost in the illimitable air. Even the inarticulate moanings of dumb beasts, which in the ear of Heaven are prayers, are not drowned in the great deep of the sky.' The thought of Dr. DEWEY, we well remember, was 'something like to this:' but the reverend speaker's language, we must add, only himself could supply. THE celebrated business epitaph, upon a tomb-stone erected by a widow in the Père La Chaise at Paris, is quite out-done by the following ' Obituary' from a late English provincial journal :

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DIED, on the eleventh instant, at his shop, Number 20 Greenwich-street, Mr. EDWARD JONES, much respected by all who knew and dealt with him. As a man he was amiable; as a hatter, upright and moderate. His virtues were beyond all price, and his beaver hats were only three dollars each. He has left a widow to deplore his loss, and a large stock, to be sold cheap for the benefit of his family. He was snatched to the other world in the prime of life, just as he had concluded an extensive purchase of felt, which he got so cheap that the widow can supply hats at a more reasonable rate than any house in town. His disconsolate family will carry on business with punctuality.'

very small. A BEAUTIFUL figure is

There! if that is not 'killing two birds with one stone,' we should like to know how that operation is performed. Our 'new Rochester correspondent, LUKE,' was in good business when he sent us for our November number an old joke, formerly published and illustrated in PUNCH, as having occurred with his own little boy. Small potatoes,' Mr. LUKESo 'JOHN PHENIX' thinks, and so think 'WE!' the annexed, from an old worthy of the English Church: A black cloud makes the traveller mend his pace, and mind his home; whereas a fair day and a pleasant way waste his time, and that stealeth away his affections in the prospect of the country. However others may think of it, yet I take it as a mercy, that now and then some clouds come between me and my sun, and many times some troubles do conceal my comfort; for I perceive, if I should find too much friendship in my inn, in my pilgrimage, I should soon forget my FATHER'S house, and my heritage.' WE visited Burton's New

Theatre, the other evening, for the first time. We never should have known the edifice, so changed is it from the old 'METROPOLITAN.' The proscenium and private-boxes are 'beautiful exceedingly.' The house was crowded to repletion, and yet all were comfortably seated, with ample room and verge enough' for all their limbs. Mr. and Mrs. DAVENPORT were the brightshining stars' of the evening, including BURTON, who is a large planet. The performances were every way admirable. OUR medical readers will

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