At nine the case was opened,
        At ten the case was o’er;
      The jury brought their virdict—­
        She was his wife no more.

      That night the husband started,
        And—­“you bet”—­he swore,
      To find his wife departed,
        And “To Let” on the door.

      Next day he moved and married. 
        And, that his bride might stay,
      He kissed her every morning
        Before he went away.

* * * * *

Pot-umania.

A correspondent writes that a new mania has sprung up among the ladies of Edinburgh—­a fancy for learning to cook.  There is a much older mania in some parts of that country—­a fancy for something to cook.

* * * * *

About a Foot.

A BOOT when it’s on.

* * * * *

IMPORTANT TO PUBLISHERS.

One of our corps of Philosophers (a trifle visionary, perhaps) has been speculating as to certain possible (or, perhaps, impossible) results flowing from the practice among publishers of ante-dating their monthly issues.  Thus, supposing that the world should be destroyed by fire (and why not? it is bad enough) on the 15th of May, 1870, and a cover of, say, Putnam’s for June, carried up by an air-current, should, after floating about ever so long in space, finally descend on some friendly planet—­we will say, Venus.  Here it would naturally get picked up by an archaeologist, (who would be on the spot looking out for it,) and the interesting relic would be promptly and reverently deposited among the other Vestiges of Creation, in the Royal Cabinet.  In the course of years, some historian would probably have occasion to turn over these curiosities, and would presently light on the scorched but still legible waif.  “Why,” says he, in astonishment, “I thought the earth was burnt on the 15th of May!  To be sure, it was in the night, and nobody saw it go, [think of that, conceited Worldling!] but it was missed by somebody the day after.  But here we have a document from the late unfortunate planet dated the first of June!”

Of course, upon this the History of the Universe would have to be rewritten, or that odd fortnight would play the mischief somewhere!

* * * * *

A Boston Boy.

HUB-BUB.

* * * * *

“Curses Come Home to Roost.”

They are putting the Fifth Avenue pavement in front of the City Hall.

* * * * *

To Politicians.

Will the working of the Fifteenth Amendment oblige a candidate to show his Color before election?

* * * * *

So We Go!