Truly Noble.

We have been requested to publish the following letter: 

NEW-YORK, March 1, 1870.

TO THE PATRIOTS HAVING CHARGE OF THE MONUMENT TO VICTOR NOIR: 

GENTLEMEN:  I honor the brave!  I am of America, American!  I import from bleeding France her brandy, her champagne, her claret, her olives, and her sardines.  I dispose of them at 1108 Lispenard street, New-York, where my peculiar facilities enable me to offer unusual inducements to the trade!  I am with you and against tyrants! Vive la freedom! I inclose seven francs as a contribution to the monument!  D.E.D.  BEHTE.

* * * * *

Perennius AEre.

In view of the recent long and luminous discourse by a distinguished United States Senator upon the subject of the funding bill, it is respectfully suggested that a part of the amount to be saved to the nation by this financial scheme shall be devoted to the erection of a “palace lifting to eternal SUMNER!”

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A Question for Ben Butler’s Nurse.

Was the honorable member from Massachusetts really born with a silver spoon in his mouth?

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The Witch and the Switch.

Fashionable women are like the conventional school-mistress—­they believe in the switch.

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Naughty.

When did the people send a cipher to the State Senate?  When they sent
NORT-on there.

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THE MARINER’S WRONGS.

Within the memories of men who are not yet old, the sailor was always looked upon and talked about as “a jolly dog.”  There was a glamour of romance about him when he was at sea, and “JACK ashore” was for ages held up as the presentment of all that was happy, and contented, and free from care.  His hardest duty was supposed to be shinning up the ratlin to “reef,” or “brail up,” or “splice the mainbrace,” or do some other of those mysterious things that caused him to look so mythical to the minds of land-lubbers and the simple-hearted kind of women that used to be, but now no longer are.  His lighter hours (about eighteen out of the twenty-four) were passed in terpsichorean performances on the “fo’k’sl,” and were so fascinating to the shorey mind that music was specially composed for them, and the “Sailor’s Hornpipe” is one of the scourges inflicted upon mortals, for their sins, by barrel-organists at the present day.  Grog was dealt out to him by the gallon, and, as for “backy,” the light-hearted fellow was never allowed to suffer for want of that; so that his happiness may be said to have been complete.