and we shall
have a tumble into the sea. I have, therefore, only time enough to add
that, from a hasty inspection of the fac-similes of newspapers, &c.,
&c., I find that the great men in those days among the Amriccans, were
one John, a smith, and one Zacchary, a tailor.

Good-bye, until I see you again. Whether you ever get this letter or
not is point of little importance, as I write altogether for my own
amusement. I shall cork the MS. up in a bottle, however, and throw it
into the sea.

Yours everlastingly,

PUNDITA.

THE DUC DE L'OMELETTE.

And stepped at once into a cooler clime.--Cowper

KEATS fell by a criticism. Who was it died of "The Andromache"? {*1}
Ignoble souls!--De L'Omelette perished of an ortolan. L'histoire en est
breve. Assist me, Spirit of Apicius!

A golden cage bore the little winged wanderer, enamored, melting,
indolent, to the Chaussee D'Antin, from its home in far Peru. From its
queenly possessor La Bellissima, to the Duc De L'Omelette, six peers of
the empire conveyed the happy bird.

That night the Duc was to sup alone. In the privacy of his bureau he
reclined languidly on that ottoman for which he sacrificed his loyalty
in outbidding his king--the notorious ottoman of Cadet.

He buries his face in the pillow. The clock strikes! Unable to restrain
his feelings, his Grace swallows an olive. At this moment the door
gently opens to the sound of soft music, and lo! the most delicate of
birds is before the most enamored of men! But what inexpressible dismay
now overshadows the countenance of the Duc?--"Horreur!--chien!
Baptiste!--l'oiseau! ah, bon Dieu! cet oiseau modeste que tu as
deshabille de ses plumes, et que tu as servi sans papier!" It is
superfluous to say more:--the Duc expired in a paroxysm of disgust.

"Ha! ha! ha!" said his Grace on the third day after his decease.

"He! he! he!" replied the Devil faintly, drawing himself up with an air
of hauteur.

"Why, surely you are not serious," retorted De L'Omelette. "I have
sinned--c'est vrai--but, my good sir, consider!--you have no actual
intention of putting such--such barbarous threats into execution."

"No what?" said his majesty--"come, sir, strip!"

"Strip, indeed! very pretty i' faith! no, sir, I shall not strip. Who
are you, pray, that I, Duc De L'Omelette, Prince de Foie-Gras, just come
of age, author of the 'Mazurkiad,' and Member of the Academy, should
divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest