tly figure,
With three hats upon his head.

When the evening shades are dusky,
Then the phantom form draws near,
And, with accents low and husky,
Pours effluvia in your ear;
Craving an immediate barter
Of your trousers or surtout,
And you know the Hebrew martyr,
Once the peerless I. O. U.'

* * * * *

A friend, in a recent letter to the Editor, thus alludes to the '_National
Intelligencer_,' one of the ablest and most dignified journals in the
country, and to two of its 'special correspondents:' 'Mr. WALSH, who
writes from Paris, seems an incorporation of European literature and
politics; and his articles are, in my belief, the most valuable now
contributed to any journal in the world. Willis is the lightest and most
mercurial 'knight of the quill' in all the tournament. It is astonishing
with what dexterity, felicity, and grace he touches off the veriest trifle
of the day, investing the trite with originality, and giving the value of
wit and poetry to the worthless and the dry. Pity that this brilliant
'quid nunc' should degenerate into a mere trifling '_arbiter
elegantiarum_,' and expend his buoyant and ductile genius in the
indictment of ephemeral paragraphs. His genius, it is true, has little
solidity; but if he would rest two or three years on his oars, he might
collect the scatterings of wit and poetry, which would in that time accrue
to him from his readings and reflections, into a volume of essays, etc.,
which would be inferior in brilliancy and piquancy to but few of any
nation.' Possibly; but in the mean time, let us advise our friend, Mr.
WILLIS has the little substantials of every-day life to look after. He
'pleases to write' frequently and _currente calamo_, because he 'pleases
_to live_.' Fame is one thing, and can be waited for; there are other
things that cannot tarry so well. Mr. WILLIS has 'seen the elephant.' He
knows that KENNY MEADOWS is not far out of the way in his humorous picture
of '_The Man of Fame and the Man of Funds_,' wherein a shadowy hand
protrudes from cloud-land, holding a pair of steel-yards, to resolve the
comparative weight of an appetizing leg-of-mutton, and a huge
laurel-wreath. The mutton 'has it' all to nothing, and the wreath 'kicks
the beam! . . . PUNCH, up to the latest dates, suddenly makes his
appearance in our sanctum. Merriest of Merry Andrews, he is ever welcome!
His 'COMIC BLACKSTONE,' must be of great ser