ch his soldiers many times. And he
ordered another coat of many colors, and lo! in all Chatham Street there
was not cloth enough to make it, so they brought it from a foreign land.
And it came to pass that he and the centurion, which is Brains--for
should not body and brains work together?--did march the soldiers down
the street which is called Broadway, and did take them to the Branch
which is called Long, and there did divers curious things, all which are
they not found in the paper, "It shines for all," which, being
interpreted, is the Moon?

Now it happened that one HO RACE GREL HE, being a Prussian, did fall
upon PHYSKE and did berate him in a paper, which is called the _Try
Buin_. And PHYSKE became very wroth and did stop the sale of the paper,
which is called the _Try Buin_, upon his roads. And HO RACE GREL HE,
being a Prussian, was sore afraid, and did fall straightway upon his
knees, and did say, "Lo, your servant has sinned! I pray thee forgive
him." And PHYSKE did say, "I forgive thee," which, being interpreted,
is, "All right, old coon, don't let me catch you at it again."

And PHYSKE did divers other strange and curious things, but are they not
written down daily by the scribes of the paper, "It shines for all,"
which, being interpreted, is the Moon, and cannot he who runs, read them
there?

LOT.

* * * * *

From the Spirit of Lindley Murray.

When is a schoolboy like an event that has happened?
When he has come to parse.

* * * * *

THE WATERING PLACES.

Punchinello's Vacations.

Vain heading! This paper is not intended to communicate anything about a
vacation. "Would that it were! says Mr. PUNCHINELLO, from the bottom of
his heart.

Last week Mr. P. intended going to the White Mountains.

But he didn't go.

On his way to the Twenty-third Street depot, he met the Count JOANNES.

"Ah ha! my noble friend!" said the latter. ""Whither away"?"

Mr. P. explained whither he was away; and was amazed to see the singular
expression which instantly spread itself over the countenance of his
noble friend.

"To the "White Mountains!"cried the Count," why, my good fellow, what
are you thinking of? Do you not know that this is September?"

"Certainly I do,"said Mr. P." I know that this is the season when Nature
revels in her richest hues, and Aurora gilds the fairest landscape; when
the rays of glorious old Sol are tempered by the soft