the next street."

The curious name seemed to strike a

latent chord in the bosom of the half witted stranger. "Bran," said he, reflectively, "that is the husk of wheat -or. it may chance some other grain.", "That's so," said the lawyer, "you'll find him in the feed store."

"In the feed store?" replied the stranger, with a dim idea that there was a humorous vein in the conversation. "Ha! ha! It is well. I will

hie to the feed store, and ask for Mr.

Husk of Wheat."

He left in high spirits, but we have as yet seen no report in the local papers of his oration on the Universal Liberty of Mankind.

THE public is beginning to ask what name is to be given to our newly acquired district of Russian America. The Tribune made a happy hit in sug gesting Walrussia," a title that at once signified the former proprietorship of the country and its chief class of population. "Asiana" has been aiso suggested. "Alexandra " would be complimentary to the monarch who has ceded it to us, and, probably the venerable Secretary of State would not object to "Sewardina." In order to preserve the Russian verbal terminology, a Western editor, who hails from somewhere near the Rocky Mountains, thinks that he would be suited either with "Jumpingoff" or "Longwayoff." It is, by the way, worthy of notice, that the few human inhabitants of Russian America have not been at all consulted as to the change in their nationality, despite of the prevalent theory, that "the peoples" ought to

have a voice in such political changes. If Seward and Gortschakoff can thus change Russians into Americans, why cannot Seward and Stanley some fine day cedo Maine to Canada, and change "Yankees" into "Britishers?"

LAWYERS are said to be about as

jovial a set of folks as can be found. There are certain lawyers in our various courts who excite the risibilities as readily as ever poor Burton did, and who laugh, as it were, a young earthquake. But a London lawyer, of whom we have lately heard, shows a grim humor that not even a New Jersey legal man can surpass. It is recorded of this worthy, that when a candidate at a recent elec tion, he gave liberal orders to all the tradesmen whose votes he hoped to secure. This generous course involved him in the ordering of a handsome coffin from a flourishing undertaker who had a vote. After the election. the coffin was, to the great dismay of the family, sent home in a handsome hearse. The servants refused to admit it, but the lawyer himself, coming to the rescue, directed that it should be placed under his bed for the present; but to this proceeding his indiguant spouse would not consent. The servants of the house also threatened to leave. So the lawyer sent the obnoxious article to his office, where it now lies, containing voluminous law reports and other records of dead cases. If a brother lawyer wishes to borrow a law-book, he is coolly referred to the coffin, and he generally remarks that it is "no matter-he'll step into the next office." In this way the legal coffin proprietor preserves his law library in

tact.

THERE appears to have been a time along the Barnegat coast of New Jersey, when some of the inhabitants, like the ancient Rhodians, believed it to be a duty to plunder vessels cast ashore. Several years ago, when General Wall was U. S. District-Attorney, a Common Pleas Judge by the name of Platt was indicted for this species of plundering, and, being arrested, was released on bail. At the next session of the court, the trial was to come on, and Platt went to the District-Attorney, and desired to know whether this whole difficulty could not be settled by "leaving

it to men," a familiar expression used by countrymen to signify the submission to arbitration. The good-natured prosecuting officer smiled at the proposition, but quickly said, "O yes; I have no objection." That is just like you," said the delighted Judge; "I told my friends you would do it." The next morning the case was called, and, as the jurymen were taking their seats, the astonished Platt leaned over to the Government Attorney, and said: "I thought, General, you had agreed to 'leave it to men ?" " "I know it," said General Wall, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "and these are the men I am going to leave it to." And he did leave it to them, and the result of their verdict was, that it left the Barnegat Justice five years in the State Prison to meditate on the text, "That the way of the transgressor is hard."

On one occasion, when a very tedious and prolix counselor was addressing the Supreme Court of New Jersey, reading largely from digests and decisions. one of the opposing counsel amused himself by dashing off the following impromptu:

"I pity much the Supreme Court,
When K ** y mounts the forum;
I sit and listen, though in pain,
For oh! how he does bore them."

This being sent up to the bench,
the witty Judge N **** s immedi-
ately wrote beneath it, and sent back
to the author, the following:-
"Then, Christian Charles, ye have the
power,

Ye members of the quorum,
And let him from this tedious hour
Be called Little Borem."

A WELL-MEANING correspondent of an
Eastern paper indulges in the follow-
ing dietary observations:-
:-

All travelers, who intend to take the "first train" in the morning, should have hasty pudding, with caper sauce, for breakfast.

Dancers should make a light supper of fish-balls and pigeon's wings. Land surveyors need snakes and perch.

Skaters must have iced water, and may occasionally have souse and cold ham.

Men of intemperate habits must avoid corned meat and ale-wives. Teachers of languages may be said to live on tongues and sounds.

Carpenters should have plane food. Dentists like something that's filling. Chiropodists are fond of toe-martyrs. Pyrotechnists can live on serpents, grasshoppers, and crackers.

Jewelers often dispose of 12 to 18 carats at one time.

Paper-hangers always have rolls on their tables.

ANOTHER gifted creature compiles this list of favorite games:The Di-still-ers'11 Whist." The Leather Dealers'-" Hide and go seek.

McCracken's-"I spy."

Old Maids'-" Matrimony."
Stock Operators'-"Beggar my neigh-
bor."

Lovers'-"Everlasting."
Topers'-"Draughts."
Wool Dealers'-"Tag."

-

Jeff. Davis's-" Prisoner's Base." Three Wise Men of Gotham's"Bowls."

Highlanders'-"Hop-Scotch."
The Coachman's-"Snap the Whip."
The Furriers'-"One old cat."
The World's-" Marble's."
To which may be added:
The Bachelors'-" Button, button,
who's got the button" (off my shirt
front).

&c.

The Horses'-"Oats, Peas, Beans,"

Mr. Toots's-"What's the consequeuce."

IT is rather late for an April fool story, but the following anecdote from the vicinity of Mobile is so good, that we do not care to wait till next April for it to become seasonable again. As a train of cars approached a certain station, a lady quite elegantly attired, with a lovely bouquet of wild flowers in her hand, and face concealed from view by a handsome veil, was discovered standing on the platform. The train was ordered to stop, of course, to take in the fair passenger-and stop it did. The gallant conductor immediately jumped out upon the platform, and cried out, as usual, "All aboard!" at the same time raising his hat and

politely extending his hand to help the lady aboard. She, however, did not recognize his gallantry, but stood dumb and motionless as a statue. The astonished conductor advanced, involuntarily raised the veil, when lo! instead of a face of female flesh and beauty, the words April Fool," inscribed on a black "light-wood chunk," met his astonished vision. He started back, gave the signal to be off with an unusual violence, jumped aboard, exclaiming to the innocent engineer in a stentorian voice-"Who told you to stop here ?"

HERE are two weak little waifs, which we snatch from an early oblivion:

"Is the property of a barber 'forfeited to the State,' when he dyes and

leaves no heirs?

coolly walked into the middle of the
river, and without a word continued his
fishing. "Get out, there!' exclaimed
Sir Roger; that is still my property.'
The man waded through the river to
the other bank, where he knew that
the land was rented by a farmer.
'Give over!' shouted Sir Roger; 'I tell
you the water is mine.' Then,' said
the fellow, 'bottle it up, and be hanged
to you! Don't you see it is all running
away to Castleborough?' The story
was carried by the man to the town,
and occasioned a good laugh; and many
a time, when Sir Roger appeared in the
place, he was greeted with Why don't
you bottle up the Trent?'"

ONE more extract, and we leave English books. The following sample

shows how the ultra-sensational style "Is a hardware dealer a defaulter if may be carried to the height of absurdhe sells his customers iron and bolts ?"ity. The amazing woman it describes is the heroine of a new novel called "Brought to Light":

A RECENT book has appeared in London which has excited the derision of the critics to an unusual extent. It is a novel called "Melchior Gorles," and is from the pen of a certain Mr. Aitchenbie. It contains a bit of art criticism intended to be serious, in which the author says of a certain picture by Albertinelli: "I frightened old mother out of her wits as I confessed to her that I felt I should just like to roll myself before it and howl. I have been conBcious of the same profound feeling in the presence of other astounding works of art, but of that above all others." The Westminster Review thinks that the only thing particularly noticeable in the book is "the intense vulgarity of all the characters." Another novel, "Woodburn Grange," by William Howitt, has been more favorably received. It is a story of English life, and contains this droll anecdote of an incident in the life of a certain baronet: "Sir Roger had triumphed! It was all over with the old delightful days at Rockville. There was an end of picnicking, of fishing, of roving in the islands. One sturdy disciple of Izaak Walton, indeed, dared to fling a line from the banks of Rockville Grove, but Sir Roger himself came upon him, and endeavored to seize him. The man

"As I said these words, I looked full and unflinchingly into the widow's eyes. Her face blanched to a dull, deathly gray before I had done speaking, while the firm fire of her eyes quailed and flickered, and then fell utterly before my gaze. Her thin lips tightened over her large white teeth; her breath came and went rapidly; and her long thin fingers closed unconsciously over the wine-glass which she happened to be holding at the time, and crushed it to fragments in their convulsive gripe. She got up without a word, and stretched out her arms, and drew the picture to her like a woman in a state of somnambulism, and then turned and walked slowly from the room. But when she reached the doorway she stopped. Her head came slowly round, as though it were worked by mechanism, till her eyes met mine with one brief fiendish look of mingled hate and fear, which, if looks possessed the power of annihilation, would have withered up your poor friend on the spot. I saw the widow no more that night."

Old Mr. Weller's celebrated piece of advice, to "beware of vidders," would be rather superfluous in regard to a lady like this.

MARK TWAIN'S ENIGMA,

APROPOS of magazine enigmas, for which there seems a mania, we commend the following as quite to the point:

I am composed of sixteen letters. My 16, 14, 3, 4, 6, 9, 15, is something or other in a general way.

My 2. 11, 7, 14, is something else. My 9, 6, 4, 10, 15, 11, is the other thing.

My 6, 16, 8, 14, 3, 2, 1, 11, is most any thing.

My 5, 3, 9, 14, 7, 3, 1, 11, 5, 6, 16, 9, 13, is most any thing else.

My 4, 2, 16, 6, is a good deal like some of the things referred to above, though in what respect it has baffled even me to determine.

My 2, 4, 8, 12, is-is-well, I suppose it is, although I cannot see why. Now, if anybody can cipher out that

enigma he is an abler man than I am, notwithstanding I got it up myself. It would be a real favor if some one would try, however. I have figured at it, and worked at it, and sweated over it, until I am disgusted, and can make neither head nor tail of it. I thought it was rather neat at first, but I do not like it so well, now that I can't find out the answer to it. It looks rather easy at a first glance, but you will notice that the more you get into it the more it widens out. This is my first effort in the enigma line, and, to speak the plain truth, I am considerably stunned at my own success. I do not seem to have just got the hang of this sort of thing. But I offer the entertaining little trifle to your readers for what it is worth; it may serve to amuse an idle year, and it cannot do much more harm; it cannot more than drive a man mad, and make him massacre his relations.

LITERARY GOSSIP.

AMERICA has produced no writer will contain many incidents in the whose fame apparently rests on a surer great romancer's career never before foundation than that of Nathaniel Haw-related, and as a matter of course will thorne. Each year swells the number attract attention. of his admirers—a fact plainly indicated The two literary families par excel by the increasing sale of his works. lence, of this country, are the Lowells The Dolliver Romance, which he did not and the Beechers. Of these rivals in live to finish, promised more in its few the field of letters, the Lowells un-' opening chapters than any thing he had questionably take precedence in point of previously produced. Some critics have genuine ability and true culture. James complained of the publication of Haw- Russell Lowell is recognized abroad as thorne's Diary in the Atlantic Monthly, the purest generic writer in America. but few who read these off-hand memo- Among our native humorists, "Hosea randa will regret that they were given Biglow" has no rival, and is the only to the public. Although carelessly writer of the Yankee idiom who ob written, and at the best but indifferent serves any thing like consistency in orcomposition for Hawthorne, they con- thographical torturing. His brother, tain many of the first ideas that were Rev. Robert S. T. Lowell, at one time subsequently elaborated into novels, settled over a church at Newark, and for this they will be valued as they but now President of a Wisconsin colought. We learn that the whole of lege, has achieved an enduring reputa. Hawthorne's hitherto unpublished wri- tion in one of the most powerfully writtings are being prepared for the press. ten novels of the time, and is not among It would be gratifying to a large num- the least of poets, as his contributions ber of his admirers, if a complete edition to the Atlantic and other publications of his works could be issued in a cheap abundantly testify. Mrs. Mary Lowell and portable form, so as to place them Putnam is scarcely inferior to her browithin reach of all classes. Mr. William thers as a writer of either prose or B. Pike's Life of Hawthorne will shortly verse. A nephew of the Lowells, who be published by a Boston house. It was killed during the war, also exhibit

M. D. Conway, the gossiping London correspondent and litterateur, has contributed to a late number of Fraser's Magazine an appreciative, pleasing, and valuable sketch of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in which he mentions a portrait of the distinguished American author and lecturer, in the School of Arts, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, painted by David Scott. It was executed when Emerson visited that city, nearly twenty years ago, and is said to be a very successful rendering of the peculiarities of his look and manner, which are physiognomically significant of his thought and spirit. But there are some traits of him," adds Mr. Conway, "which are but faintly, if at all, suggested in the picture referred to, that have been developed in the years that

not have been even hinted on canvas. In his more recent life, Emerson's American hearers have recognized a less literary style and tone, and a stronger desire to have his views adopted. His paradoxes are stated with more dctermination. He oftener turns aside from the constructive and affirmative method natural to him, to strike some faise or sordid standard raised on his path: and one now sometimes sees his lip quiver, his eye flash, and even a certain

ed a remarkable poetic ability, and there are others still, who will yet make their mark as writers. In comparison with this literary family, there is a small army of Beechers, of whom Henry Ward and Mrs. Beecher Stowe are the most prominent; but Catharine, Edward, Charles, et al., are known in a literary way, and each has his or her coterie of admirers. Mrs. Stowe's reputation rests largely if not wholly upon her Uncle Tom's Cabin, ever since the publication of which she has labored in vain to produce its equal. It was not to its literary merit or particular power as a novel that Uncle Tom's Cabin owed its success, but the eminent fitness of the subject to the time. Had its publication been deferred to this day, it would have created little or no excitement. At that time, even, the manu-have intervened, or which perhaps could script was refused by half-a-dozen firstclass publishers, and it was reserved for John P. Jewett to make his fame and fortune from the publication. Mrs. Stowe writes with very little effort, and often with a corresponding amount of thought. She has often remarked, that when she sat down to a chapter, she had no idea of what she was going to write. She does something in the poetry line, as the volume of Religious Poems recently issued by Messrs. Ticknor & Fields indicates; but she is gift-wrath expressed in the dilation of his ed with few of the elements of true poetry, and only makes indifferently creditable verses. As a dashing and sparkling essayist, Henry Ward Beecher has well earned his "literary" reputation. His Star Papers form his best book, though Royal Truths, made up of choice excerpts from his sermons, and first published in England, unknown to Mr. Beecher, contains more thought, if less art. Mr. B.'s reputation as a novelist is yet to be made, and, judging from the character of his Ledger story, is not in the immediate future. He is a prolific writer; and a man who spreads his thoughts over so much paper must necessarily be "thin" sometimes. Should he continue for a decade at his present literary speed, he will probably not live long enough thereafter to read all of his published works. The fame of the other Beechers is only local, and it is hardly reasonable to suppose that it will ever become greatly extended.

nostril,-where Winkelmann saw expressed the anger of Apollo of the Vatican toward the slain Python. An eminent lawyer of Boston, Rufus Choate, in defending slavery, once spoke of the Declaration of Independence, popularly held to be inconsistent with that institution, as a series of glittering generalities.' In a lecture given afterward, Emerson quoted some of the phrases,—as those declaring 'all men are born equal,' and are endowed with inalienable rights,'-and said: 'These have been called 'glittering generalities;' they are blazing ubiquities.' And as he spoke, his whole frame trembled, and the intensity of his voice kindled his audience far more than the mere words could have done." The following is the latest poem from Emerson's pen, contributed to a Boston periodical, and which has no need of a signature to determine its author: