In regard to this, also, it may not be amiss to suggest that this passion for match-making lies at the bottom of the recent increase in divorce, which so alarms some timid moralists.  Certain it is that easy divorce enlarges the opportunities for its gratification, and to be “fancy” and “free” is no longer a charm peculiar only to “maiden meditation.”

* * * * *

HISTORY FACTORY.

Card to the Public.

The undersigned, having recently increased their facilities for the manufacture of History upon an unusually large scale, would hereby announce to their patrons and the public in general that they have associated with them Messrs. VICTOR EMANUEL and General TROCHU.

LOUIS NAPOLEON,

M. BISMARCK,

WM. O’PRUSSIA,

* * * * *

Commercial.

A proof of the present great depression in the Whaling business is the fact that the editor of the Sun still walks about unflogged.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  HORSE-CAR AMENITIES.

Conductor.  “Wanted to get off, did you?—­Then why in thunder didn’t you say so?”]

* * * * *

THE CHOICE OF PARIS (IN AMERICA.)

    One drink, dear friend, before we part—­
      Before I tempt the shining sea;
    One drink to pledge each constant heart—­
      Yet stay, what shall the tipple be?

    My eyes are dazed with bar-room “signs”
      In which, I pray, shall friendship conquer? 
    Can alien I drink “native” wines? 
      Are Jew-lips Christian tipple, mon coeur?

    This “cobbler”—­is’t a heeling drink? 
      A “smash” were surely inauspicious;
    Toute de-suite, two “sours”—­yet I think
      Ah! qu’est-ce-qui c’est!—­acetate is vicious!

    Garcon! two “skins”—­the name is ’cute—–­
      You Yankees “twig” the pharmaceutical;
    But hold! art sure the flay-vor’ll suit? 
      Will it not smack too much of cuticle?

    No, boy, no “skins.”  Let’s try some beer,
      A milder fluid for to-day;
    Ottawa bring us—­c’est a dire,
      Some beer that keeps the ’ot away.

    No?  Well, some ale:  in limpid Bass
      We’ll drown our thirst and parting grief;
    Come drink—­arretez! this must pass—­
      ’Twould look too much like bas-relief!

    The hour arrives; our lips are dry;
      What shall it be?  Oh, name it for me! 
    A tasse of gin?  I drink and fly
      To toss upon the ocean stormy.

* * * * *

“NOTHING LIKE LEATHER.”