per down below, and am eluding the man who
comes every day to tell me how such a paper _should_ be conducted. He is
now talking to the young man writing the mail-wrappers, who, being of
iron constitution and unmarried, can bear more than I. There was just
time for me to glide out of the window at sound of that fearful voice,
and I climbed the iron shutter and found myself at your casement.--Hark!
Do you hear the buzz down there? He's now telling the young man writing
the mail-wrappers what kind of Cartoons should be got-up for _this_
country.--Hark, again! and the young man writing the mail-wrappers have
clinched and are rolling about the floor.--Hark, once more! The young
man writing the mail-wrappers has put him out."

"Won't you come in?" asked MONTGOMERY, sincerely sorry for the agitated
being.

"Alas, no!" responded the fugitive, in the tone of a cathedral bell.

"I must go back to my lower deep once more. My name is JEREMY BENTHAM; I
am very unhappy in my mind; and, with your permission, will often escape
this way from him who is the bane of my existence."

Being assured of welcome on all occasions, he of the long countenance
went clanging down the iron shutter again; and the lonely law-student,
burying his face in his hands, prayed Providence to forgive him for
having esteemed his own lot so hopelessly gloomy when there were Comic
Paper men on the very next floor.

That night, before going home to Gowanus, the old lawyer across the way
glanced up toward MONTGOMERY'S retreat, and shook his head as though he
couldn't make something out. Whether he had a difficult idea in his
brain, or only a fly on his nose, was for the observer to discover for
himself.

(_To be Continued_.)

* * * * *

UNIVERSOCKDOLOGY.

Mr. PUNCHINELLO: It afflicts me, one of your most assiduous readers, to
notice that you cast not even so much as a lack-lustre glance at the
brilliant gems that STEPHEN PEARL ANDREWS scatters periodically through
the columns of the _Evening Mail_ and WOODHULL & CLAFLIN'S _Weekly_. Are
the times out of joint; or is it your Italian nose? Do you fear to quote
the sublimated utterances of the perspicacious, although pleonastic
philosopher? Does he lead you in thought, or the expression thereof?
Then, wherefore? And if not, wherever may the just reason be found for
your indifference?

The science of Universology, as so delightfully unfolded by Mr. ANDREWS,
is one that must er