from the sensational theorizing indulged by editors choosing to expend more care and money upon local news than upon European rumors; but we may not injudiciously hazard the assumption, that, were the police under any other than Democratic domination, such a murder as that alleged to have been committed by MANTON PENJOHNSON on BALDWIN GOOD had not been possible.  PENJOHNSON, it shall be noticed, is a Southerner, while young GOOD was strongly Northern in sentiment; and it requires no straining of a point to trace in these known facts a sectional antagonism to which even a long war has not yielded full sanguinary satiation.”  The World said:  “Acerrima proximorum odia; and, under the present infamous Radical abuse of empire, the hatred between brothers, first fostered by the eleutheromaniacs of Abolitionism, is bearing its bitter fruit of private assassination at last.  Somewhere amongst our loci communes of to-day may be found a report of the supposed death, at Hampsteadville (not Bumperville, as a radical contemporary has it,) of a young Northerner named GOODWIN BLOOD, at the hands of a Southern gentleman belonging to the stately old Southern family of PENTORRENS.  The PENTORRENS’ are related, by old cavalier stock, to the Dukes of Mandeville, whose present ducal descendant combines the elegance of an Esterhazy with the intellect of an Argyle.  That a scion of such blood as this has reduced a fellow-being to a condition of inanimate protoplasm, is to be regretted for his sake; but more for that of a country in which the philosophy of COMTE finds in a corrupt radical pantarchy all-sufficient first-cause of whatsoever is rotten in the State of Denmark.”  The Times said:  “We give no details of the Burnstableville tragedy to-day, not being willing to pander to a vitiated public taste; but shall do so to-morrow.”

After reading these articles in the Great Dailies with considerable distraction, and inferring therefrom, that at least three different young Southerners had killed three different young Northerners in three different places on Christmas-Eve, Judge SWEENEY had a rush of blood to the brain, and discharged MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON as a person of undistinguishable identity.  But, when set at large, the helpless youth could not turn a corner without meeting some bald-headed reporter who raised the cry of “Stop thief!” if he sought to fly, and, if he paused, interviewed him in a magisterial manner, and almost tearfully implored him to Confess his crime in time for the Next Edition.

Father DEAN, Ritual Rector of St. Cow’s, meeting Gospeler SIMPSON upon one of their daily strolls through the snow, said to him: 

“This young man, your pupil, has sinned, it appears, and a Ritualistic church, Mr. Gospeler, is no sanctuary for sinners.”

“I cannot believe that the sin is his, Holy Father,” answered the Reverend OCTAVIUS, respectfully:  “but, even if it is, and he is remorseful for it, should not our Church cover him with her wings?”