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.
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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, protege 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.
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SUMMER ON THE CATSKILLS,
BY REGALIA REYNA.
O thou Mount Katskill! whom
I now survey
In roseate brightness of the new-born day,
To thee my thankfulness I would convey,
For self and crowd;
Who from the glare and hum of hot
Have sought repose upon thy wondrous crest, and
Brought our wives—
I gaze upon thy placid brow, where storms do
Forgetful of the storms of life, and Mister