* * * * *

A. Natural Mistake.

An advertisement from the establishment of Messrs. A. T. STEWART & Co., announces, among other things, that they have opened a “MADDER PRINT.”

At first sight we supposed that the firm in question had begun publishing a paper in opposition to the Sun, and that it was to be, if possible, a madder print than that luminary, for the purpose of cutting it out.  Further reflection convinced us, however, that the “print” in question was connected with the subject of dry goods, only.

* * * * *

Very Small Beer.

Newspaper items state that the editor of the Winterset (Iowa,) Sun, is, probably, the smallest editor in the the world.”  Surely the editor of the New York Sun must be the one meant.

* * * * *

“Well I’m Blowed!”

As the omelette soufflee said to the cook.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  AT THE SARATOGA CONVENTION.

Horace Greeley, (to Roscoe Conkling.) “DON’T BE RASH, NOW REMEMBER THAT A SOFT ANSWER TURNETH AWAY WRATH.”

Roscoe Conkling.  “LET US HAVE PEACE, BY ALL MEANS:  BUT IF THAT FELLOW REUBE FENTON INTERFERES WITH ME, HE HAD BETTER LOOK OUT THAT I DON’T SMASH HIS SLATE.”]

* * * * *

HIRAM GREEN TO NAPOLEON.

Napoleon I and Napoleon III—­Lager-Beer a Formidable Enemy to Overcome.

SKEENSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT,

Orgust—­, 18-Seventy.

FRIEND LEWIS:  As I haint got no anser to my last letter which I rote to your royal magesty a few weeks ago, it has occurred to me, that maybe you don’t feel well about these days, or, just as like as not our “Cousin German,” FRITZ, mite have been mean enuff as to gobble up your male bag, and steel my letter to put into his outograf album.  I now take my pen in hand to inform you, that Ime as sound as a Saddle Rock oyster, and hope these few lines may find you enjoyin’ the same blessin.  Numerous changes have taken place since your grand invasion of German sile.

It has certinly been very kind in your Dutch friends to save you a long jerney to fite them.

Insted of puttin’ you to the trouble of goin’ away from home for a little excitement, you can set rite in the heart of your own country, and enjoy the fun.

A man by the name of NERO, was once said to do some tall fiddlin’ when Rome was burnin’.

While the patriotic fires of your people is clusterin’ around you (?) my advice is, to cote the words of Unkle EDWARD: 

    “Hang up your fiddle and your bow,
    Lay down your shovel and the hoe. 
    Where the woodbine twineth
    There’s a place for Unkle LEW,
    With UGEENY and little LEWIS for to go.”

The foregoin’ is rather more sarcastikle than troothful.