to the loafing which invariably takes place upon the occasion of the relaying of the wooden pavement. I say wooden more particularly, inasmuch as new fangled varieties of pavement, such as Concrete, Nicholson, etc., although they have their day, cannot be said to compete for a moment in public regard with the good old fashioned kind first described.

Of all the causes that arrest public attention, surely this laying of wooden pavement is the most enduring and effectual.

People of every grade and degree make a dead halt as they approach this centre of interest, and at once settle down for a prolonged inspection of the works before them. It is true that everybody has seen the same thing one hundred and fifty times, but this description of indulgence appears to grow by what it feeds upon, and the fascinated victim watches the operation of the workers with a gratification which knows no abatement. The usual formula gone through upon these occasions is as follows:

Citizen approaches the scene of interest, and sees crowds of spectators upon each side; he glances at the workmen, and, after taking stock of both them and the overseer, proceeds to read the opinion of his fellows in their faces, after which he settles down in right earnest with his hands in his pockets for a prolonged stare. This latter may continue for periods varying from ten minutes to an hour and three quarters, according to inclination or opportunity.

If the spectator is a man of business, it is just possible that he may content himself with measuring the size of the blocks with his eye, and then pass on, content to know that he, as one out of many taxpayers, is getting the value of what they are called on to pay for. But with the mass of the onlookers, the pouring of the hot pitch into the gravelled interstices is watched with a satisfaction ever new, like that bestowed in the pantomime upon the application by the clown of the red-hot poker.

There is also the pleasure of seeing others at hard work, and the indulgence of everybody's belief (which is common to all present,) that he or she could suggest an improvement upon the work proceeding, and the manner of doing it. Then they look at each other once more and depart contented.

Upon a moderate calculation, the amount of time devoted by human beings to this amusing study, in the City of New York, amounts to 2,450,000 hours per annum.

ENGLAND'S QUANDARY.

Conjecture and expectancy, O PUNCHINELLO! have been the order of the day in this European turmoil, with regard to the position of what are called neutral Powers. People have been looking at England with much curiosity to see what she really does intend. With the facilities which our special wire affords, I am enabled to report a highly interesting soliloquy delivered by the Rt. Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, to his bed-post, at his home in Spring Gardens, London, after a hot night's debate at St. STEPHEN'S. Our reporter concealed himself in the key-hole and took verbatim notes. As in the case of the speeches delivered by the rival monarchs to their armies, which you published a week in advance of the speeches themselves, the following can be relied on:

"I'm tired of answering questions. Let me think awhile. Is war the only alternative? They blame me for not talking out. Fools, they don't know where they stand. At home and abroad, difficulty. Our workmen emigrating; the Irish irreconcilable, (curse that word!) nothing cheerful that side.

"France can rock her irreconcilables to sleep to the war lullaby of that man we have so trusted only to betray us; our irreconcilables only wait for war to side with our enemy. Prussia, grasping bull-dog as she is, makes capital out of it, and calls us to her side, while our stupid people burn with a Prussian fever, which may turn to a plague to-morrow.

"Is the Prussian whom we have helped to humble to be our only ally? Then must we write ourselves down asses in Constantinople.

"If we had some other head besides weather-cock expediency. France has an Emperor, Prussia a King to lead them; we have a Queen who takes walks in the Isle of Wight; and her son—bah! a roué about town. Their marriage alliances are drag-chains, not bonds of love. Denmark does not forget our treachery in '65. Holland is afraid of France. We are safe from America yet. They are too much afraid of the German vote, thank Heaven, to side with France, but "Alabama" is her watchword, and she only waits to strangle us. LAFAYETTE and the Hessians are only memories, they have no votes. Ah! it was a mistake to sympathize with the South.

"Our statesmen—Heaven save the mark!—are our worst enemies. D'ISRAELI, the Jew, doubles our difficulty by showing our weakness. He would play the part of PITT without his brains or his chances. Then we led, now we are dragged at the tail. We may sign treaties, but we cannot write them. BRIGHT would be friendly with both; GRANVILLE with neither, and thus each is offended. It is ridiculous, and the only course left is to bluster about Belgium.

"It must be the late dinner. There are all sorts of threatening shadows around, and but one light; that is a war flame. Let me sleep. To-morrow the gaping thousands will ask a sign. It may come, but it shall be hoisted on the Rhine, and, helpless tide waiters, we cannot tell from which side it shall come. Ah! 'Uneasy sits the man on the ministerial bench,' as SHAKESPEARE would say to-day, for the crown that he spoke of is an ornament in the tower."

REPORTER

Magnetic

Polish soldiers should choose the needle gun. The needle is always true to the Pole.

A CAPITAL HINT FOR OUR STATIONARY STREET MUSICIANS, IF THEY WANT TO MAKE MONEY.

THE LEAVEN OF LEAVENWORTH. The great West has long been famous for the loose, untrammelled freedom with which its inhabitants treat everything and everybody. Breadth, no less than length, is a striking feature of Western settlements, and that this element is conspicuous in the journalism of those singular abodes, no less than in the social life of their inhabitants, generally, is evidenced in the following advertisement cut from "The Times"—a paper published at Leavenworth, Kansas:

"NOTICE TO DRIVERS OF FAST STOCK.—Hold your horses and do not drive so fast. All gay and festive cusses caught driving faster than ordinary gait in the city, will be brought before Judge Vaughan, for instance--the fine is $20.

H. A. ROBERTSON, City Marshal."

The City Marshal of Leavenworth is clearly a pot-companion of the first (whiskey and) water. He declines to address his fellow-citizens in the commonplace terms usually recognised in more prosaic communities. To adopt his own style of phraseology, ROBERTSON is clearly a "gay and festive cuss." He is a specimen brick from Kansas, and doubtless always carries one in his hat. The expression "ordinary gait," as applied to driving in Kansas, where everybody owns "fast stock," is rather equivocal in these quieter latitudes to be sure, but we may guess that, at Leavenworth, a man who rides or drives at a pace of twenty miles an hour, is liable, "for instance," to a fine of $20, or just one dollar per mile. Kansas maybe a very nice place to live in, for some people, but we would hardly recommend Mr. ROBERT BONNER to emigrate thither, and so risk the probability of being advertised as a "gay and festive cuss."

SHIP AHOY!

Of all public performers, there are none who "draw" better than the gymnasts who risk their necks by attempting hazardous feats. The fool who attaches himself by the heels to the car of an ascending balloon is sure to have thousands of feeble-minded females waving handkerchiefs at him. BLONDIN, the great French tomfool, brought more people to Niagara Falls to see him, possibly, add a new Fall to the prospect, than ever the Falls themselves did. And when another donkey announces that he is going to stand upon his head on the point of a church spire, that church is sure to be thronged—outside. These performances, and all of their sort, should be made punishable, and will probably be so when a hundred or two performers shall have been killed, in addition to those who have already suffered.

Not nearly so exciting as performances of the kind referred to, though, perhaps, quite as rash, are the ocean voyages occasionally essayed by tiny, toy ships. One of these—the Red, White and Blue—is announced as about to start upon a "voyage round the world." We wish her our best wishes, and hope she may get round in the roundest way and time. One of her first stopping places, though, as we see, is Martha's Vineyard. Our advice to the skipper of the toy ship, is to go no further than that delightful haven of rest. MARTHA. will cherish her as a chimney ornament, or give her to her kids to play with—and nobody will be hurt.

Two Renderings.

Finis coronat opus:—The end crowns the work.

Finis coroner opus:—There is plenty of work for the Coroner, but the "end" does not always appear to be gained.

All of which is respectfully submitted to the investigators of murder in this city.

The Modern Monks of La Trappe.

The Coroner, the Assistant District-Attorney, and certain other officials who have been trying the "trap" game on the witnesses examined in the NATHAN murder case.

Results of Silver Stock.

1. The dream is ore.

2. Never mined.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Englishman, London.—You have lost your wager. Ohio is not the capital of Indiana.

Stranger, New York City.—When you get lost in our streets and do not know where you are, it is a good plan to seek information from a policeman. If he does not know where you are, come directly to the office of PUNCHINELLO.

Antiquary.—"The Last of the Barons" was a term applied to an implement used by the ancient shoemakers. The pedal members of the old English barons were of a peculiar aristocratic conformation, and lasts were made expressly for them. This is a curious fact not generally known.

Ploughboy finds the following remark in Mr. GREELEY'S thirtieth What, and asks explanation.

"So with regard to Carrots. I have never achieved success in growing these nor Beets."

We infer that the meaning is, With regard to carrots, sow them. "These nor Beets" are probably a new variety. They may have come from Norfolk, but more "presumably" they were found in Alaska.

Metaphysician, Cloudland.—Your article on the "Psychical Basis of Objective Existence" is excellent. Look out for it in the "Juvenile Department" of our Christmas number.

Grammarian.—The expression "We ain't got none" is manifestly incorrect. It has two negatives. "We ain't got any" is by far more elegant.

Wager says that A. made a bet with B. that he could cut a dime in two at one stroke of his pen-knife, C. to hold the stakes. A. took a ten-cent "scrip" and chopped it in two with his blade. Meantime C. walked away with the stake money. Who won? Answer.—The bet is off. C. is also off, but no better, and neither A. or B. is any better off.

NOTES ON THE FERRY.

Gushington, (with the pipe.) "SHE SMILED ON ONE OF US, I'LL SWEAR."

Spindle. "PERHAPS; BUT WHAT'S A SMILE? A POSITIVE NOD FOR ME, OR NOTHING!"

AERATED VERBIAGE.

An Every-day Romance.

CHAPTER I.

In a room in a palatial tenement house in Avenue D, stood GILBERT FERNANDE FROU FROU SNOGGS. G.F.F.F.S. was rampant.

"Why?" you say.

Gentle reader, hurry me not. Let the tale wag on. She was talking to her mamma.

"Now," said G.F.F.F.S., "I prognosticated that my maternal relative would become oblivions of my reiterated solicitations to perambulate the Avenue, and make the acquisition of four yards of cerulean hued ribbon," and she stamped her tiny number eights on the floor.

You will notice that, even in her anger, she did not forget her English.

"You can purchase it on the morrow," replied her mamma.

"I will not remain acquiescent. I will promenade upon my profluence to Sixth Avenue, and purchase the ceruleous ribbon immediately," said G.F.F.F.S., putting on her waterproof and sun-bonnet.

Her mother pointed to the paternal turnip, which hung over the mantel, and showed her that old Time was "doing stunts" at 10-1/2.

But G.F.F.F.S. was obstinate. She put on her chignon, her curls, her breast elevator, her bustle, her high-heeled shoes, a little rouge, a little whiting and a bit of court-plaster, and sallied forth, down the dumb-waiter to the cellar, and thence, through the ash-hole, to the street.

CHAPTER II.

The deed was done!!! The purchase was made find G.F.F.F.S. walked towards her palatial paternal mansion. She felt slightly timid, for, as she looked at the heavens, she saw that ARCTURUS, who had been playing tag with CASTOR and POLLUX all the evening, had reached hunk, the Great Bear. From the astronomical knowledge which she had acquired at the Vavasour Female Academy, she knew that the paternal turnip now pointed to the witching hour of 11-1/2.

Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a party of bandits, (she thought she was in Greece, but she was only in the 19th Ward.)

They seized her.

"Not a word," said the leader. "Your money or your life."

Now G.F.F.F.S. had lots of life and very little money, so she could hardly determine whether to give up some of her life or all of her money.

"Illustrious banditti," said she, "the auriferous contents of my reticulated depository are notable for minuteness. Be conservators of my pullulating existence."

"I say, TOM," said the leader, "what's her little game?"

"It sounds like Irish," said TOM.

"Hand over your stamps," said the leader.

G.F.F.F.S. slowly drew out her net purse, when suddenly the robbers fled. G.F.F.F.S. felt that her hero had come, and, like all the ARAMINTAS in the novels, she fainted and was caught in the arms of—

CHAPTER III.

The author tried to persuade the editor to allow him to write "to be continued" after the last thrilling chapter, but the editor was inexorable, hence this chapter, "in the arms of"—a little red-headed policeman.

G.F.F.F.S. smiled gently, but, as soon as she had opened her eyes, and had cast them on the red head, freckled face, pug-nose, and little eyes of MIKE MCFLYNN, she sprang to her feet. It was better than forty gallons of hartshorn. She had wasted a faint.

"Perdidi animi deliquium," said she.

"Mother of MOSES, but you was heavy!" said MCFLYNN.

But she did not wait, and a pair of number eight shoes might have been seen by an inquisitive reporter, cutting around the corners and stamping up seven flights of stairs.

MORAL.

When the paternal turnip solemnly points to 10-1/2, G.F.F.F.S. puts her number eights on the mantel, looks reflectively at a sore-eyed kitten, and falls into polysyllables.

HOMODEIFICATION.

Late advices from China convey the intelligence that the American-Chinese General WARD, who died in the service of the Celestial empire, has