rprised, if some big criminal was sentenced to go there yet, which
minds me of a konundrum. Why is the English mission like lager beer?

Give 'er up?

Because it ruins any _minister's_ reputation, who goes for it.

Hopin that when you shovel off your mortil coil, that your mantle may
not pass out of the family, and as time flies on with greased wings, you
may make the family name _sound_ by bein able to Mark Twain in your
family record, I drop the goose feather.

Ewers, parentally,

HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.

* * * * *

A SURE WAY OF DOING IT.

Seekers after notoriety must often be at their wits' end for some new
sensation with which to advertise themselves. Mr. TWAIN, for instance,
having gone through Fenianism and France, seems to have collapsed for
the present; and here now comes Mr. WEMYSS JOBSON, who subsided into
oblivion years ago, but has just emerged again into the light of _The
Sun_. The efforts of both these gentlemen to keep themselves prominently
before the public, however, are very inadequate and feeble. They should
suffer more and be stronger. Let TRAIN do a bold stroke of business by
declaring himself the perpetrator of the latest mysterious murder, and
it might be the making of the exhumed JOBSON to revive a fossilized
memory, and confess himself to be the criminal who delivered the fatal
blow to the late Mr. WILLIAM PATTERSON.

* * * * *

True to his Colors.

A Bostonian visiting New York, not long since, and reading in the papers
that there was to be a celebration of Mass in an up-town church, decided
to remain over Sunday for it, thinking, Bostonially, that Mass meant
Massachusetts and nothing else.

* * * * *

SUITABLE INSCRIPTION FOR A BOATMAN'S RACE-PRIZE. "The noblest
Row-man of them all."

* * * * *

[Illustration: A NEW LEAF IN THE FAMILY HISTORY.

_Jack._ "NOW, I'LL BE PAPA, GOING TO FIX THE FURNACE."

_Sallie_. "OH, YES!--AND I'LL BE THE NEW NURSE, AND YOU MUST KISS ME
BEHIND THE CELLAR DOOR!"]

* * * * *

[Illustration: BEHIND THE TIMES.

EXPLANATORY OF MR. JOHN BULL'S VIEWS.]

* * * * *

POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO XIII.

When I was a bachelor I lived by myself;
All the bread and cheese I had, I laid upon the shelf.
But the rats and the mice