His next sketch bore a striking resemblance to something that certainly did not seem like a rock, but which, after some deliberation, he found to look very much like a shrinking Southern negro, forced into the ranks to supply the place of a citizen of Massachusetts.  Everybody might not be able to see this, but Mr. P. thought he perceived it plainly.

The last sketch made by Mr. P. somewhat resembled one whose connection with “The Plymouth Rock” has certainly been of more practical benefit to the public than that of any of the " old founders,” or anybody else—­at least so far as Mr. P. can see.  If any one doubts this, let him ask General GRANT.

Now should his readers see anything at all suggestive of sober and beneficial reflection in these sketches, Mr. P.’s visit to Plymouth Rock was not made in vain.

* * * * *

A LETTER FROM L. N.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO:  The Empire is Peace, as usual.  If, some time hence, it should be discovered to have been otherwise, at the time of writing this letter, you will please understand that I wasn’t there, at that moment, having had a little business to transact with my good friend WILLIAMS, of PRUSSIA.  I am at present engaged upon a tour of the German States in the company of a pleasant little excursion party, who met me at Sedan, and received me warmly.

Everybody seems glad to greet me, particularly at this time, and all express regrets that I couldn’t have come earlier in the season.  They are aware of the interest I have ever felt in the great German people, and I am assured they welcome with enthusiasm my pet theory of the solidarity of nations.

I intend remaining here awhile, feeling sure that there is nothing to call me homeward for the present.  The truth is, my friend, I am getting weaned of the French people.  So soon as my obligations to my very good friends in Prussia will permit, you may look for me in New York.  Yes, dear PUNCHINELLO, greatest and beet of Philosophers! expect to see me walking into your Sanctum one of these fine mornings,—­probably with my son LOUIS,—­delighted to see you, and glad to turn my back on those scenes so long familiar, which, in their new and popular dress, could hardly be expected to afford me much exhilaration.

From an inferior man, I should expect officious and quite gratuitous commiseration over the fate of the late Empire.  You, however, will readily perceive it to be possible that I should rather be congratulated.  You would not exchange your dignified leisure, your careless toils, for the best of sovereignties.  Why, then, should I, who have made you my exemplar, feel a pang at parting with a sceptre which for years has only tired my hand?

I picture myself seated with my family on the heights at Weehawken, smoking a good cigarette, and musing on the affairs of nations as I watch the flow of that superb river (as much finer than the Rhine, my friend, as wine is finer than lagerbier!) which I have often, in days gone by, admired and extolled by the hour.