* * * * *

Remark by a Bandsman.

Once upon a time the French Horn was a famous instrument, but now, considering the retreating strategy of the French leaders, it appears to be superseded by the Off I Glide.

* * * * *

The Music of the Future.

Considering the enormous difficulties which stand in the way of the performance of Herr WAGNER’S music, it is the music of the Few Sure enough.

* * * * *

A Relic of the Past.

The following item is taken from a daily paper: 

“The septuagenarian Dejazet sang the ‘Marseillaise’ at the Passy theatre lately.”

There seems to be a mistake, here.  Surely the word Passy is meant for passee.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  PRECOCIOUS.

LITTLE FEMALE AMERICA, TOO, ASSERTS HER RIGHTS AND ESPECIALLY THE RIGHT
TO THE EXCLUSIVE USE OF THE SIDE-WALK FOR A ROPE-WALK.”]

* * * * *

OUR PORTFOLIO.

“Well, you know, Dear Mr. PUNCHINELLOW, this is how CHARLEY DANY and me cum to hev our fallin’ out.  We was boys together, was CHARLEY and me, and went to the same school.  CHARLEY were a likely lad there; never given to spilin’ the faces of t’other boys nor splashin’ mud on their clothes.  Oh! but hasn’t he gone back on them good old times.  I wouldn’t hev’ believed it, CHARLEY, no I wouldn’t.

But, as I was sayin’, he were a likely lad; studyin’ hard, and often tellin’ me how he would one day come out at the head of the heap, gradooatin’ before the Squire’s son, JACK BALDERBACK.  Just about this time I was tuk with the measles, and father died, and SALLIE got married, and the old woman said to me: 

“EPHRAIM, I think your school days is ended.”  And so they was.  I never went back again, and never saw CHARLEY these thirty-five years gone now, ‘till t’other day.  I went West in search of a livin’, and he tuk onto business here East.  Wons’t in a long time I heerd on him; how things went well with him, and how he got up, up, up, till the ladder wasn’t big enough and he couldn’t climb no higher.  Folks said he was into the war; but I didn’t believe ’em.  CHARLEY was a peace man, I knowed that.  Arterwards, howsumever, it cum out that it was the War Office he was into, and not the war; and says I to myself, “EPHRAIM,” says I, “didn’t I tell you so; and tell them so, and war’nt I right?  I calkilate they won’t go back no more on what I says about CHARLEY DANY.”

Well, dear Mr. PUNCHINELLOW, I was one day readin’ of your paper, and I comes onto sumthin’ about sumbody, which it was as I spell it, “CHARLES A. DANA,” how he was a cuttin’ up shines, and how you was a pokin’ fun and hard things at him.

I larfed right out.

“That’s smart,” says I, “Yes, that’s smart; but it ain’t onto my CHARLEY.  He ain’t stuck up nor nothing of that sort.  He is as innocent as gooseberries, is the CHARLEY DANY I know;” and arterwards I thought no more about it, till I cum on to New York for to look into the cattle business, and see how things was shapin for trade this winter.