tic. Of course he has never seen your noble, capacious, alabaster
forehead, else he would perceive the source of those scintillations of
light and warmth which radiate throughout the universe every Saturday
for only ten cents. He is curious also to know about the salt, and
doesn't comprehend how or where you use it. He used to use it when a boy
in catching birds by putting the briny compound on the tails of the
same, and _that_ he used to call "fun alive;" but he don't see it--the
salt--about PUNCHINELLO. I suspect Mr. DROWSE doesn't see the sellers,
(certainly he avoids them when PUNCHINELLO is offered, much to my
mortification, and one dime to my cost,) and so is not likely to discern
the source of the fun. I merely informed Mr. DROWSE that the editor was
very tall, very handsome, with very black skin and rosy hair, (at which
he opened his eyes with astonishment, and asked if I meant so; at which
I said, "Yes, I guess so,") and that he laughed out of his nose, eyes,
head, and hands, as well as his mouth. DROWSE wants to see the editor
very much. He has seen men with black skins and hearts, (for he used to
know lots of politicians;) but wants to put his vision on some "rosy
hair"--and when he does, no doubt his gaze will be fixed. It is healthy
sometimes to have the gaze fixed; and often, like sauce-pans and
sermons, it has to be fixed. When Mr. DROWSE calls at 83, please show
him in Parlor 6 with the Brussels, fresco-work, and lace curtains.

April is a model month. So serene, steady, clear, and balmy. Nothing
but blue sky, gentle zephyrs, kissing breezes, genial suns by day and
sparkling stars by night. PUNCHINELLO no doubt likes sparkling
stars--stars of magnitude--stars that show what they are. PUNCHINELLO
perhaps goes to NIBLO'S, and not only sees plenty stars, but plenty of
them. But of April. It is called "fickle;" but that's a slander. "Every
thing by turns and nothing long"--that is a libel on which a suit could
be hung. The same vile falsehood is cruelly uttered of some women, when
every body knows, or should know, that these same women are nothing of
the sort. Who ever knew a fickle woman?

Where in history is there record of such an Impossibility? Fickle--that
implies a change of mind. What woman ever changed her mind any more than
her hands? Nonsense, avaunt!--banished be slander! April is _not_
fickle--woman is _not_ fickle. As one is evenly beautiful, divinely
serene, bewitchingly winning, so is the othe