Now this is the whole subject in a nutshell—­a subject it behooves you and all other deep thinkers to grapple withal.  Through your efforts to spread the glorious truths thus ingeniously set forth, how much good might be done!  Think of the unravelling of the complications surrounding the Germano-Gallic war; the light that might be thrown upon the sources of HORACE GREELEY’S agricultural information; the settlement of the Coolie question.  Then, see what effect a clear and candid discussion of the topic would have on the public morality, security, and peace!  How often it appears that, in spite of the normal equanimity observable in circumstantial evidence, hereditary disciplinarisms are totally devoid of potential abstemiousness.  This may be owing to the fact that at ebb and neap tides the obliquity of vision (duism) remarked by most invalid veterans in their occasional adversaria, is unconscious of their parental dignity, and by no means to be confounded with the referees in astronomical or pharmaceutical cases, or with ordinary omphalopsychites.  Whatever be or not be the result of these investigations and calculations, it is consolatory to the student of proportional hemispheres to remark that, whichever way the sophist may turn, he must invariably rely on the softer impeachments of a hireling crowd, with

    “Water, water, everywhere,
    And not a drop to drink,”

and give up all personal interest in the homogeneous relations arising from too precipitate a ratiocination of events, urging, at the same time, the positive proportions exercised in the administration of a not over particular dormitory, and the replication of chameleonizing—­constantly chameleonizing, odoriferosities.

Yours, PATHIST.

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About Face!

Recent London advices briefly state that EDMUND ABOUT, the missing correspondent of the Soir, has turned up somewhere.  Our Cockney informant imagines that M. ABOUT, like his distinguished ancestor, (ABOU, B.A.,) found his “sweet dream of peace” too rudely disturbed by the howlings of the Prussian dogs of war, and decided to ’ead About for Paris, simply in order to avoid being ’eaded off by the enemy.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  “WHEN YOU GO TO LONG BRANCH, DO NOT TAKE A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG WITH YOU.  I BROUGHT ONE DOWN WITH ME HERE, AND WHENEVER I GO OUT TO TAKE A LITTLE DIP, THE FAITHFUL CREATURE WILL INSIST ON DRAGGING ME ASHORE.”—­Letter from a Friend.]

* * * * *

SUMMER AT SANDY POINT.

Sandy Point, August 18, 1870.

PRELIMINARY FLOURISHES.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO:[1] Nature demands a change of air.  Man needs rest.  Invigoration is necessary to health.  The throbbing brain must shut down on its throbbing.

Hence second-class hotels, with first-class prices; hence hard beds, no gas, and many flies.  I say—­“Hence—­flies,” but as a general thing I notice they will not hence.