and erected on platforms inundated by rising tides; dykes and ditches had to be made, while all the time our men were exposed to the fire of the rebel fleet.  When all this was accomplished, and communication was cut off from Pulaski, then the nearest points on Tybee were reached by our forces located on that island, and four or five batteries were planted, which, in turn, have done their work, and the result shows how wise were the plans and how successful was the execution.  The stars and stripes now float over Pulaski, and may they never again be polluted by the touch of traitor hands.

* * * * *

Those persons who ‘collect’ street literature (there be such) may be pleased with the following: 

PORTENTOUS PLACARDS.

New-York, May, 1862.

Since the publication of the ‘Bill-Poster’s Dream,’ and of the extracts from Richmond papers containing the prophecies of the handwriting on the wall relative to the accomplice States of America, few things have so generally attracted pedestrian attention in our down-town streets as two enormous placards.  The first bore the following legend: 

THERE’S
A TEMPEST
BREWING.

Persons given to cryptical studies were inclined to consider this an esoteric form of advertisement, intended to convey to the initiated the information that A. STORM had gone into the beer business.  But conjecture was set at naught by its fellow which appeared at its side on the day after its posting, in this shape: 

VIDELICIT

The Prophessor.

     Puncanhed, who was the first to call my attention to the placard,
     did so with the following statement: 

     ’’Tan’t spelt right—­and why couldn’t the feller just as well use
     the ‘good old English’ word viz., as ’videlicit?’’

The query was unanswerable.  But having some doubt as to the first word in the Greek line, by using which instead of the article ’O, the writer has shown not merely unconsciousness of the Greek particle, but ignorance of a particle of Greek, I put the first Hibernian who passed to the test of reading the sentence, which I am forced to say the indignant Milesian scornfully declined.  I submit the whole question to the researches of your readers.  HEMIPLEGIUS.

Nay—­we know not.  ‘The Professor’ at the Breakfast-Table we do indeed know, and it is no unwonted thing for us to meet him in Tremont street, merry and wise as ever.  But we have never seen him or any other Professor ‘driven to the wall’ in any way whatever; and albeit we suspect him of a knowledge of whist, we have beheld him pla-carded.  We pass.

* * * * *

Do we say too much when we call the following poem truly beautiful?

WITH FLOWERS.