e parlor every evening and preaching on
Sundays.

I should not forget a paralytic washwoman in my section of the house,
who has a prevailing idea, when she brings home my clothes, that eleven
pieces make a dozen.

Reader, if you seek

THE FLUSH OF HEALTH,

come down here! I wasn't very flush when I got here, but I don't intend
to go away till I've put myself into thorough repair.

Yours, SARSFIELD YOUNG.

[Footnote 1: SOAPINGTON, of the hotel here, and I, have been skirmishing
over a board bill for a couple of weeks, and he has finally outflanked
me to the amount of about $40. I think if you will insert this
correspondence it will be all right. S. will succumb.]

* * * * *

A War Conundrum.

When are soldiers like writers for the press? When they charge by the
column.

* * * * *

A well-tilled Soil.

The article on DICKENS, in the August number of the _Atlantic Monthly_,
is certainly suggestive of fresh Fields, if not of pastures new.

* * * * *

THE WATERING PLACES.

Punchinello's Vacations.

Sometimes Mr. PUNCHINELLO is very busy. Not only has he upon his
shoulders the ordinary labors of conductor of a great journal, but he
has much to do for other people. His editors, his printers, his binders,
his artists, his engravers, his corps of clerks, his office and errand
boys, and all connected with his extensive establishment, come to him
from time to time for advice in regard to the investment of their
surplus earnings, and between assisting in the purchase of a farm for
this one, a house for the other, and all sorts of stocks and bonds for
the rest, he is often terribly pressed for time.

No one who is not looked up to by a crowd of grateful dependents, all
fattening in the shadow of his prosperity, as it were, can understand
Mr. P's. feelings of responsibility at such times.

Such an unusual demand upon his time occurred last week, and Mr. P.
found that he would not be able to spend a few days as usual at some
fashionable watering place. But be must have some recreation, so he
determined to have a day's fishing among the celebrated Thousand Islands
of the St. Lawrence. He put some luncheon in a basket, and set off quite
early in the morning. Finding that some twenty hours were consumed in
the transit, Mr. P. thought that, considering his hurry, he had better,
perhaps, have gone to Newark for a day's fish