“THERE WAS A SURPRISE PARTY AT No. 9,999 TWENTY-THIRD STREET LAST EVENING.  UPON RETURNING FROM THE OPERA, THE PROPRIETORS FOUND THEIR MANSION FULL, OF GUESTS.”]

* * * * *

A DRY SETTLEMENT.

There is a little young village in Denver which rejoices in the name of Greeley.  To this place came a benevolent bar-keeper, bringing a cheerful stock of whiskey.  Down upon his grocery came the enraged Greeleyites, and to prevent their own stomachs from being burned, they burned the building.  We can imagine these very particular pioneers passing a great variety of the most astonishing laws, with various penalties.  For chewing tobacco—­one month’s imprisonment; for subscribing to The N.Y.  Evening Post—­death; while for the hideous misdemeanor of eating white bread, the offender would be left to the pangs of his own indigestion.

* * * * *

Fact.  Fancy, and Fun-ding.

THE FUNDING BILL, as a step towards making the Erie Canal free, should commend itself to any one, since if it becomes a fact, it will, we fancy, prevent this noble industrial enterprise from becoming, like its first cousin, simply an eyrie for the vultures of finance.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE LATEST STYLE.

AS MEN’S CLOTHES ARE CUT HOUR-GLASS FASHION NOW, PUNCHINELLO SUGGESTS
THE ABOVE PATTERN AS AN APPROPRIATE ONE FOR THEM.]

* * * * *

THE ALARM-BELLE AT RYE.

    At Rye, Westchester County, a small town
    Built near the Sound, but of a scant renown,
    That always to its biggest size did run
    At summer-time, beneath a blazing sun,
    But rested as a town, as if to say,
    “I’ll pay no further taxes, come what may;”—­
    The ancient cobbler, JOHN, unknown to fame
    (So many cobblers since have borne the name),
    Owned the great belle of all that country place,
    His daughter, with her tongue and lovely face,
    Who took to soothing every kind of pain,
    Tramped through the streets, dragging a muddy train. 
    With kerchief blowed her horn both, loud and long. 
    And talked incessantly of every wrong,
    Kept her tongue wagging, until right was done. 
    Thus did the daughter of old cobbler John.

    What mighty good this BERGH of that Burgh did. 
    While her tongue lasted, she had never hid: 
    Suffice it that, as all things must decay,
    The fleshy tongue at length was worn away;
    She mouthed it for a while, and people dreamed
    Of golden days before this belle had screamed. 
    Loaded and beat their horses at their ease. 
    Drove thorn with, wounded backs and broken knees,
    Turned turtles over, and e’en tortured clams. 
    Murdered trichinae, when they boiled their hams. 
    Till one, a doctor, who was passing by,
    Struck by the horrors going on in Rye,
    Cut from a calf, that yet was very young. 
    And kindly gave unto the belle, a tongue.