response to the Knight's demand in accents sweetly low.

THE END.

"WELL SAID, OLD MOLE!"

In a newspaper description of Mr. GREELEY, published some years since, it was stated that he was born with a mole upon his left arm. This may or may not be the case; but, judging from the persistence with which the great agriculturist advocates sub-soil ploughing, there can be no doubt whatever that he has mole on the brain.

BLOOD AND THUNDER!

PUNCHINELLO learns, without the least surprise, that Mr. YOUNGBLOOD has retired in disgust from the management of the New York Free Press. It is further announced that the estimable publication referred to will henceforth be under the charge of Mr. OLDBLOOD, a blood relative of all the BADBLOODS belonging to the JOHN REAL Democracy.

"FALL" WEATHER.

The subject of bringing down rain by the firing of artillery has again been revived, owing to the long droughts that have lately prevailed. What gives a color of feasibility to it, at present, is the fact that the Reign of LOUIS NAPOLEON has lately been brought down by Prussian guns.

A SIGHT TOO BAD!

Struggling Cuba. "YOU MUST BE AWFULLY NEAR-SIGHTED, MR. PRESIDENT, NOT TO RECOGNIZE ME."

U. S. G. "NO: I AM FAR-SIGHTED; FOR I CAN RECOGNIZE FRANCE."

HIRAM GREEN'S POLITICAL SENTIMENTS.

His Reason for Leaving his Party.—A Catechism for Candidates.

I hain't gilty of any stated polertix, as Ime aware of.

For an old man, Ime helthy and sound as a nut on all public questions. I use to be an old line Whig, and was a pooty active thimble-rigger as long as it paid. But when that party refoosed to renominate me for the offis of Gustese of the Peece, like a thurar bred polertician, I shook 'em. Said I, standin' ontop a sugar hogshead, at a primary meetin, which was bein held in SIMMINSES grocery store:—

"Feller sitizens of the Whig party, Refoose to renominate good men for offisses, and you can pack your duds and git your carpet bags checkt for the next steamer goin up Salt River.

Leave my name off'n your ticket for another term of offis, and there won't be enuff left in your old politikle carciss to grease a flap-jack griddle with. In the words of Mister—Mister—Somebody, "A word to the wise is—is—enuff to make a—hoss laff."

And here I say it, Mister PUNCHINELLO, I wasent nominated.

Dident I smash things? Gess not! I norgarated a bolt which spread like pourin keroseen ile over a marble floor, and the next fall, SCOTT & GRAHAM was nockt hire'n the Himmely mountins, while the old Whig party shoveled off its mortil quarrel.

Thus, as HORRIS GREELY, in his remarks on politikle Economy, says: "Vengents, like a 2 tined pitchfork in the hands of Old Nick, will bust up any party which goes back onto its trusted leaders. 'Vengents is mine,' says the disappinted offis seeker, and on Election day he peddles split tickets ontil the poles close."

Standin as I do on nootral ground, I wish like JOHN BULL I could make my nootrality pay as well as J. B. does, by sellin stores to the Prooshians and the French.

In castin my suferage this fall, I shall go Principals not men. A principal which is good for its little 7 per cent. intrest payable semi-annually, is what ales me.

I have prepared a serious of questions, which I propose to ask candydates who come sneakin around for my sufferage.

Skedyule of Interogertories.

What's your principals, and is the interest payable in gold or greenbax?

If elected to offis, will you squander all your salary and retire poorer than a church mouse? or will you give such strict attention to your dooties as will enable you to salt down $100,000.00 per yeer from the enormous salary of $1500.00 ($ fifteen hundred)?

Do you think, takin an iron clad oath has got anything to do with a sertin commandment which says, "Thou shalt not steel"?

Are you a beleiver in E. CADY STANTON'S revoolushinary idees, that woman is the "coming man," and if so, how do you like it as fur as yoo've got?

Do you think THEODORE TILTON, ED STUDWELL, STEVE GRISWOLD, FRED DUGLIS, and SOOSAN B. ANTHONY would make as good Presidents of the U.S. as a man would?

Is your wife one of them strong-minded critters, who believes that husbands had orter stay home and nuss the baby while she goes out and plays baseball?

Will you fall onto a voter's sholders, who eats garlix and onions, and shed tears as freely the day arter eleckshun as you will the nite before?

Could you sing the "Battle-cry of freedom" so luvly, if it wasent for Unkle Sam's Notes?

Would you have any objections, if our National and Common Counsels, like that of Rome, should organize Economikle Counsels?

In the war on tother side of the pond, is your sympathies for Lager or Pea soup?

If you want the German vote, don't you think it would be your politikle bier to get at lager-heads with the Prushians?

Did you ever think before, that yourself and family, way back 15 or 20 generations in the grave, were such a lot of low-lived villyians as the opposition papers say you be? and haint it a mistery to you that you are allowed to go unhung?

Did you commit the NATHAN murder? if so, why dident you call off your "dorg"?

Do you know as much about farmin as HORRIS GREELY does? if so, who told you?

Are you a Fenian, Know-nothin, Mason, Anti-mason, Labor Reformer, Anti-labor Reformer, a Chineese cooler, Anti-Chineese cooler, and the "wickedest man in N.Y."? Are you in favor of free trade, high tariff, free whiskey, whiskey tax, JIM FISK, MARETZEK, Tammany, the Young Democracy, Grand Army of the Republicans, GEO. F. TRAIN, MRS. CUNNINGHAM, and the D—l?

In fact, like JOSEFF, have you got a cote of many cullers?

Any candydate who can give affirmative ansers to the foregoin Catekism, and is willin to show his principals by bleedin freely, can get my vote, sure popp.

Ewers trooly, & I haint afrade To jine the bread & butter brigade.

HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,

Lait Gustise of the Peese.

LAST WORDS OF EMINENT MEN.

Selected by Sarsfield Young.

A FREE TRADER.

When you go to the theater, it is pleasant to have the little boy of a rustic couple persist in feeding you with gingerbread and orange-peel, and, if you request the little wretch to keep still, to be told by his parents that you are "putting on airs."

THE MEDICAL CONFIDENCE GAME.

Mr. Punchinello has lately received a medical publication, in which there are some editorial remarks concerning the relations between physicians and their patients. The latter are exhorted to place all confidence in their medical advisers, for, otherwise, there can be no harmonious action between them. This is all very well, and Mr. PUNCHINELLO thinks that if anything in this world should be the subject of sacred confidences, it should be the revelations of the sick-room. But, after reading the reports of the various cases which are detailed in this publication, his faith in the advisability of confiding in one's doctor was somewhat shaken. For instance, when he read that "Miss ANNA P-----, aged 25, of blonde complexion and apparent good health, residing near Jefferson avenue and Sixty-eighth street, had been subject for years to convolutions of the cerebral hemispheres, and had been obliged at various times to submit to partial amputations of horn-like excrescences on the divisions of her manual extremities," Mr. PUNCHINELLO was of opinion that this young lady, who could be easily recognized from the hints (?) of her name and residence, might possibly object to the announcement, to all her friends and acquaintances, that she had cerebral hemispheres, and still more to the fact that they were convoluted. But this dreadful truth is published, under the merest film of concealment of her identity, to the whole world, and her physical condition and subsequent surgical treatment may be town-talk for the rest of her life. Where is the "sacred confidence" here?

There are dozens of similar cases in the publication referred to, and medical journals are, in general, full of them.

Will it therefore be wondered at if we don't want all the world to know, every time we call in a doctor, that we may have a "parenchyma of the lung," or a "sub-conjunctival cellular tissue," that we will begin some day to insist as much upon medical honor as medical ability? Mr. PUNCHINELLO thinks not.

"FIAT LUX."

We learn that our Third Assistant Postmaster-General has been indisposed for some days, owing to his excessive labor in breaking envelope contracts. Why does the Postmaster-General allow his subordinates thus to overwork themselves? We wish he would shed a REAY of light on the subject.

SCIENCE AND ENDURANCE.

When people undertake any thing in the cause of Science, or indeed in any other cause, they might as well do their best while they have a chance. This is an axiom of social economy which is presented, gratis, to the world.

Now, the three scientific men who intend passing the winter on the top of Mount Washington, might certainly find some other manner of spending the cold months in the interests of science which would be much more difficult and disagreeable. They expect to be snowed up at the Tip-top House, from December until March, and will spend their time in a room lined with felt, where they will burn twenty tons of coal during their sojourn.

Almost any one could do all this. If the scientific gentlemen in question desire to undergo some really notable hardships there are plenty of deep lakes in New York, at the bottom of which they might spend the winter in a diving-bell. They would probably be frozen in until March, and they would find it much more difficult to use their instruments, and everything far more disagreeable, generally, than in a large room in the Tip-top House. Still if they would prefer something still more arduous, let them ride day and night, from December until March, in the Third Avenue cars of this city. If they were to do this, and confine their scientific labors to observations of the decidedly mean altitude of the Sun, they would probably suffer more, in a given time, than any previous party of learned men, and thus accomplish their object much better than by deliberately allowing themselves to be snowed up on Mount Washington.

A SURPRISING PROPHECY.

Years ago Mr. PUNCHINELLO had a very old grandfather, and he well remembers that on the inside of the lid of a certain horse-hair trunk, the property of that estimable old man, was pasted a bit of poetical prophecy, the words of which embedded themselves, like the hot letters of a branding-iron, on the tender skin of Mr. PUNCHINELLO'S mind. The following is the prophecy: