us, for
that!)

* * * * *

NAPOLEON III AT SEDAN.

September, 1870.

I _was_ an Emperor. _Voila c'est bon!_
BAZAINE, MACMAHON, fought--'twas my affair.
Only, to please my doctor, NELATON,
I left the throne, to take a Sedan chair.

* * * * *

Unlimited Lie-Ability.

_Veritas_ writes to say that as he was crossing the ferry from Wall
Street to Brooklyn, yesterday afternoon, he counted 117 persons reading
PUNCHINELLO. He did not observe a single copy of the _Sun_ on board,
until the boat neared Brooklyn, when a man of squalid appearance
produced from a dirty newspaper some soiled articles, all of which
seemed to have been steeped in Lye, from contact with the sheet, which
proved to be the _Sun._

* * * * *

A Con for the "Ninth."

What is there in common between Colonel FISK'S war-horse and a New York
Ice Company?

Both are tremendous Chargers.

* * * * *

THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.

Here I am again, back from the seashore, to find the theatres opening,
the war closing, and GREELEY burning to imitate the late French Emperor,
by leading the Republican hosts to defeat in the Fall campaign, so as to
be in a position to write to the Germanically named HOFFMAN--"As I
cannot fall, ballot in hand, at the head of my repeaters, I surrender to
your victorious Excellency."

Being back, I went to see _Julius Caesar_ at NIBLO'S Garden. It was the
day when the French CAESER fell, and the impertinent soothsayer,
ROCHEFORT, who had so often advised him to beware, not of the Ides of
March, but of the _Idees Napoleoniennes,_ (there is a feeble attempt at
a pun here) obtained his liberty, and the right to assail in his
newspaper, the virtue of every female relative of the Imperial family.
Of course I know that JULIUS CAESAR was not a Frenchman--for the modesty
of his "Commentaries" is proverbial--and that SHAKESPEARE never so much
as heard of the Man of December. Nevertheless the two CAESARS were
inextricably mixed up in my mind. I know that two or three editorial
persons who sat close by me, were continually talking of NAPOLEON, and I
may possibly have confounded their remarks with those of the actors.
Still I could not divest myself of the impression that I was sometimes
in Paris and sometimes in Rome, and that the sepulchral voice of Mr.
THEODORE HAMILTON, was more often that