accustomed wash!

"Shall it be thus? No!" says the poet. "Dry your tears, little JACK, go to the well-stocked pantry, my boy, and get something to eat. The jury will not convict you of stealing, for their verdict will be that you did the deed in self-defence." And he did—go to the closet, and—

See the smiles as they wreathe themselves on his chubby countenance. How little JACK looks at the pie! how he turns it round and round to find the best spot whereon to begin the attack! How he smacks his lips, and thinks how nice it would be if he could wish to give SUSAN ANN a taste! But he can't.

Suddenly an idea strikes JACK. He has heard Uncle TOM talk of a big war between Frawnce and Proossia, and all about the soldiers and the cannon, and the big noises. Little JACK will make war on the pie. He will be Frawnce, the pie will be Proossia. He sets it squarely before him on the floor; rolls up his sleeves, may be; his eyes sparkle with determination; he finds the most vulnerable spot in the crust; he makes one bold dive with his thumb, it goes down, down down, crushing everything before it; it feels something; renewed vigor flows through JACK'S veins, and gives him new strength for the attack; victory crowns him; and, in the words of the poet,

—Now he is happy. He has realized his fondest hopes. The blue-bottle has no tickle for him now. He was Frawnce and he has licked Proossia. There is nothing left but the plate, and his teeth are not hard enough for that.

"Hooray for the Impurrur!"

The ardor with which our Milesian element embraces the cause of France furnishes a puzzle for many thoughtful minds; and yet its solution is simple. In planning a passage of the Rhine, LOUIS NAPOLEON proposes to BRIDGET. That's all.

A Roland for his Oliver.

OLIVER DYER, of the Sun, is the original "Dyer Necessity that knows no law."

OUR PORTFOLIO.

And now comes to light another divorce case in Chicago. Mrs. HUGG sues Mr. HUGG for a decree e vinculo matrimonii. If there is anything in a name, no one will gainsay the observation that if hugging has lost its charm, Mrs. HUGG is the last person to make a fuss about it. She took her HUGG with a full knowledge of the circumstances, and it is contrary to public policy and good morals that her plea of "hugged out" should enable her to obtain the remedy which she seeks.

In France they do not wait for the completion of the years of adolescence to dub a scion of the royal family with the title of "man." The Prince Imperial, prior to his departure for the wars, was presented at Court as the "first gentleman" of France. For a youth of fourteen he is said to have gone through the trying ceremonies with great credit until directed by his mamma to dance with a venerable female of noble blood, just as he was about to lend a beautiful American miss through the mazes of a Schottische. The son of his father took one glance at the ancient dame, and one at the lovely creature beside him, and then set up a right royal blubber of disappointment.

"Remember, my son," said EUGENIE, "you are a man now, and men never cry."

"Oh! mamma," sighed the afflicted Prince, "let me be a boy again, rather than dance with cette vieille yonder!"

Alas! for the ambition of monarchs, who put forward their beardless progeny to do the deeds of men, and to suffer with men's fortitude, when they are more fit to be puling in a nurse's arms, or unravelling silk skeins for some maid of honor.

THE WATERING PLACES.

Punchinello's Vacations.

It was hot when Mr. PUNCHINELLO started for Niagara. So hot that no allusions to Fahrenheit would give an idea of the tremendous preponderance of caloric in the atmosphere. The trip was full of discomforts, and there was great danger, at one time, that the train would arrive at Niagara with a load of desiccated bodies. Of course the water all boiled away in the engine-tanks, causing endless stoppages; and of course the hot sun, pouring directly upon the roof of the cars, caused the boards thereof to curl up and twist about in such fantastic fashion, that they afforded no protection whatever to the passengers, who were obliged to resort to sunshades and umbrellas, or get under the seats. Added to this were the facts that the ice-water in the coolers scalded the mouth; the brass-work on the seats blistered the hands; and the empty stoves, almost red-hot from their exposure to the sun, superheated the cars to a degree that was maddening. Added to these was the fact that the intense heat expanded the rails until they were several miles longer than usual, and thus the passengers suffered the tortures of the transit for an increased length of time.

When, at last, Mr. P. was conveyed, in a stifling hack, (the fare had risen, under the unusual circumstances, about one hundred and ten degrees,) to a stifling little room under the hot roof of an hotel exposed to the sun on every side, and had taken an extempore Russian bath while changing his linen, and had partaken of a hot dinner, he might have been excused for saying that he would like to cool off a little.

Inquiring if there was any stream of water convenient, he was directed to the river Niagara, which runs hard by the hotel.

Reaching the banks of the river, Mr. P. was very much pleased by the prospect. There is a considerable depression in the bed of the stream at one point, and the water runs over the rocks quite rapidly, carrying with it such leaves, twigs, steamboats or other objects that may be floating upon its surface.

Mr. P. immediately perceived the advantages of this condition of things to a a gentleman suffering from the heat, and procuring a boat, he rowed close to the foot of a cascade formed by the inclination in the bed of the river, and throwing out his anchor, revelled in the luxury of the cool spray and the refreshing sound of the rushing water.

Does not this look cool?

When sufficiently refreshed, Mr. P. rowed to shore, feeling like another man. With the greatest confidence in its merits, he recommends his plan to those who may be suffering from the summer heat.

After breakfast the next morning, Mr. P. set out to see what he could see. He did not engage the services of any hackman or professional guide.

He had heard of their extortions, and determined to submit to nothing of the kind. He intended relying entirely upon himself. He walked some distance without meeting with any of the places of interest of which he had heard so much.

Meeting at length with a respectable elderly gentleman, Mr. P. inquired of him the way to the Cave of the Winds.

"The Cave of the Winds? Ah!" said this worthy person. "You turn to your left here, sir—ah! and then you keep on for about—ah! half a mile, and you will—ah! see a gate—ah! Behind that is a man and the cave—ah!"

Mr. P. thanked him and was proceeding on his way, when the worthy citizen touched him on the arm, saying:

"Twenty-one dollars, if you please, sir."

"Twenty-one dev----developments!" cried Mr. P; "Why, what do you mean?"

"Information, sir; fifty cents a word; forty-two words; twenty-one dollars."

It must not be supposed that Mr. P. submitted tamely to this outrage, but after a long dispute, it was agreed to refer the matter to the arbitration of three of the principal citizens. They promptly decided that the charge was just and must be paid, but, owing to Mr. P.'s earnest protestations, they agreed to throw out the "ahs," as being of doubtful value as information. The sum thus saved to Mr. P. exactly paid for drinks for the party.

Mr. P. now very sensibly concluded that it was about time to leave, if his editors, his printers, and the employés in his pun-factory were to expect any pay that week, and so he set out for home in the evening, taking a shortcut by the way of Montreal.

He thought that a day might be very profitably spent here, especially if he could fall in with any of the French-Canadians, of whose peculiarities he had heard so much. The study of human nature was always Mr. P.'s particular forte.

On the morning of his arrival, Mr. P. met, in the dining-room of the hotel, a gentleman who was unmistakably a Frenchman, and being in Canada, was probably Canadian. As they were sitting together at the table, Mr. P., having mentally rubbed up his knowledge of the French language, addressed his companion thus:

"Avez-vous le chapeau de mon frere?"

The gentleman thus politely addressed, bowed, smiled, and after a little hesitation answered:

"Non, Monsieur; mais jài le fromage de votre soeur."

"Eh bien" said Mr. P., as he scratched his head for a moment. "Otez vous vos souliers et vos bas?"

The other answered promptly, "Je n'ote ni les uns ni les autres."

"Votre père," remarked Mr. P., "a-t-il la chandelle de votre oncle?"

His companion remained silent for a minute or two, and then he said:

"I forget the French of the answer to that, but I know the English of it; it is 'no, sir, but he has the apples-of-the-ground-of-sugar of my mother-in-law.'"

When Mr. P. discovered, after a little conversation in the vernacular, that his companion was a New York dry-goods clerk, he gave up the study of the French-Canadian character and went on with his breakfast.

When he went out into the streets to see the lions of the city he was delighted to meet with some old friends. In company with them he visited the Government House; the Cathedral; the Statue of NELSON; the VICTORIA bridge; and everything else of interest in the place. But nothing was so delightful to him as the faces of these old friends, from whom he had been separated so long.

IDIOTIC ITEMS.

On Tuesday last one of the swans in Central Park laid a hen's egg.

A celebrated English professor of heraldry is now at Long Branch, studying the crests of the waves.

Dr. LIVINGSTONE is no longer a white man. The large colored princess whom he has been compelled to marry has beaten him black and blue.

Louis NAPOLEON'S first bulletin about the war was the bullet in the pocket of NAP Junior.

An intelligent cordwainer of this city has invented a bathing shoe to fit the under-toe at Long Branch.

The lock of the writing-desk made with his own hands by LOUIS NAPOLEON, at Hoboken, has been presented to the Empress EUGENIE by a gentleman residing at Union Hill, in exchange for a lock of her Majesty's hair.

Yesterday, while three eminent Wall street brokers—names, BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON—were engaged in watering stock, they fell in and were drowned. Loss fully covered by insurance.

CARL FORMES is oddly reported to have lost his Bass voice through over indulgence in lager-beer. He drank a barrel of beer a day, and his voice has now become a barrel organ.

In France the Marseillaise has become the national Him; while, in Prussia, BISMARCK is decidedly the national Herr.

A French paper has an article respecting certain musical fishes found in the Indian Seas, They ought to be engaged for PIKE'S Opera House.

The annual panther, weighing 8 ft., 9 inches, from snout to tip of tail, and measuring 213 lbs., has just been killed in the Adirondacks by a reporter.

POLITICAL CLAPTRAP.

The sympathy exhibited by the Sun reporters and editors for the unhappy victim of Ogre Tammany is particularly touching.

Association with the Wickedest Man in New York, the Honorable JOHN ALLEN, protégé of the Reverend OLIVER DYER, has evidently demoralized the pure beings who control the immaculate sheet known as the Sun, whose putrescent light "shines for all."

These panders to the depraved taste of a depraved portion of the community, may exult in the spectacle presented in the City of New York on Sunday, the 7th inst., but is it not a sorrowful thing in a so-called Christian land to see a murderer borne with triumph to his grave, while pseudo philanthropists deck his bier with flowers, and deliberately charge a great political party with having hunted the wretched man to his death?

Was there no nobler game worth the killing by Tammany? Was there not a "stag of Ten" to be found, to be struck, if party necessities required it? Would OAKEY HALL and PETER B. SWEENY put such a slight upon these bastard allies of the O'BRIENS and MORRISSEYS whose columns are open to the highest bidder, and whose lips reek venom while their hands are ever ready to strike a victim in the back, as to pass them by while they were on the war-path?

But hold—perhaps we have a clue to this singular conduct of the Tammany warriors. They may have foreseen how apt the sweet people are to confer immortality upon those whose death becomes them better than their life, and therefore wisely forebore to disturb those blissful with murderers and felons which seem to bind the Satellites of the Sun and the denizens of the Tombs together.

SUMMER ON THE CATSKILLS,

BY REGALIA REYNA.