But then he says, the question arises, could they, although they might be the best troops in the world, subjugate 21,000,000 of people who glory, above all things, in their independence? He gets over this difficulty by supposing that Napoleon III. could persuade the masses in England that he came not as a conqueror but as a deliverer. "Bread and Liberty" would be his rallying cry; and the writer is of opinion that the people would not be ashamed to accept benefits at his hand. With all Jack Cade's mottoes on his standard, he would make war in the name of the English people upon the English aristocracy. A war with England conducted on such principles would command the enthusiastic support of the pamphleteer, who exclaims, "When we should see our ships in line and our regiments proudly defiling before Napoleon III., we would say to the Emperor, Sire, the English people is not against you; you have only to face all those Sardanapaluses of the Thames who drink in golden cups the sweat of a hundred millions of helots and set up to be the Pachas of civilization. Sire, your glory will not be that of conqueror, but your ashes will be deposited in the temple of humanity.' The second pamphlet is called "Cherbourg et l'Angleterre." A few passages will give an idea of the work. "The inauguration of Cherbourg," says its author, "is, for France, a festival of glorification for her navy, for the nations a festival of hope, and for England a festival of expiation." "Long enough," he elsewhere declares, "has England paraded her maritime brigandage, and prided herself on it. The history of England is a permanent scandal; the success of England disturbs the conscience, like the sight of a fortunate bandit. But if the bandit lives too short a time always to meet his punishment here below, it is not the same with a city or a nation. Where now is Carthage? Where will superb England be to-morrow ?" Again, "In her heart, England is afraid; and what excites to so high a degree her ill-concealed terror is her evil conscience." "Steam has continentalized England; she is no longer an island, as formerly. We can land on her shores when we please, and where has she soldiers to combat us?" At times, this impet uous and impartial writer, carried away by his patriotic and bellicose ardor, abandons the conditional for the future tense, and talks of what France will do when the war he evidently thirsts for shall break out. He also gives us some rather startling intelligence. "England lost nearly all her army in the Crimea; to repair her losses at Inkermann she recalled her troops from India; hence the insurrection; in reality, it was from Sebastopol that sprang the independence of India. . . . The domination of the English in India is finished. Nothing can again lift up English power. They may command days of prayer and of public fasting; they would need to change their souls. . . . They have wearied Providence, and their reign is past. The power of England was never any thing but a usurped power.. She remained in the first rank only as the consequence of a surprise. She is redescending to her natural place. She will sulk at first; then she will get used to it. If she kicks she is lost; and she will end by listening to reason and by learning justice, for Cherbourg is there." The writer inveighs against the "privileged classes" in England, and predicts that they would find no support from the people on the day when a French General should present himself with the great Charter of Universal Suffrage in one hand, and, in the other, the Code Napoleon, with all its principles of social equality. "Henceforward it is no longer Heaven alone that the English workman will invoke in his misery, he will turn his eyes towards Cherbourg, seeking, in the mists of the horizon, the liberating fleet." The reputed author of this extravagant nonsense is M. Jules Lechevalier, some time a socialist refugee in England, now an employé in France. Editor's Drawer. Drawer have been exercised with the enigma TOW many thousands of the readers of the published in the September number of the Magazine it is impossible for us to say; but the numerous answers we have received are the best evidence that the ingenuity of many of them has been at work with very various results. From the bundle of answers before us, we shall select a few which are so happily expressed that they are well worthy of reading, whether they are or are not satisfactory solutions. A Boston correspondent writes: "I herewith send you a leaf taken from Knight's Penny Magazine, vol. ii., 1846, page 175, which gives the author's own solution, as appears by the allegorical cut accompanying it, viz., 'KNIGHTHOOD.' "This is, undoubtedly, the author's solution, for his writings were originally published in the magazine conducted by Mr. Knight." We will copy the enigma with the allegorical solution, and then the answers of our correspondents may be compared with it. ENIGMA. Sir Hilary charged at Agincourt, My first to all the brave and proud My next, with her cold and quiet cloud, And both together to all blue eyes That weep when a warrior nobly dies. The enigma has often been republished, and many years ago the following solution was offered in the Home Journal: Sir Hilary looked aloft in prayer, J. A. K., of Chicago, Illinois, offers another. When the two hosts at Agincourt Horsemen and footmen sadly toil, "On, on, my men!" the leaders cry, Shall find a grave most blest; And they who see to-morrow's sun,' Had found a wet and "dewy shroud" Cease all your vain regrets and fears, Looks sadly o'er the slain. A lady in New Hampshire very modestly proposes the following classical reply to the riddle: The coming foe, Sir Hilary eyed, And, raising eyes to Heaven, he cried, Then rushing boldly to the fight, Arms loudly clashed with warriors might, And rose the conflicts' din. Oh, "Sol!" bright Sun, how dear thy light Well may'st thou weep, fair maid; From Detroit we have the following original solution. The writer says of the riddle: "It has never before been solved since it was written, which is upward of twenty years ago. You will perceive that, in the enigma, Praed has ingeniously woven its solution into the rhyme of two of the feet of the last verse, thus rendering it both simple and suggestive." Unto the young and brave he cried, They still would live, whate'er_betide, To those enwrapped in Fate's dun cloud The paths to glory and the shroud Shall meet, alas! in one. And unto those blue eyes that weep, That o'er the cold dead vigils keep, He only said "UNDONE!" A correspondent in Milton, Massachusetts, sends the following, being another version of one printed above: When Hilary charged at Agincourt, Upon that bloody day, It was no scene of knightly sport, And he raised his helm a moment there, "May all whom Heaven this day shall save While on the slaughtered warrior's grave And may the fair, who mourn the dead, Westerly, Rhode Island, contributes this, which is very clever: At Agincourt Sir Hilary's charge, Is known o'er all the world at large, He won his glorious way; He spoke two words "by way of prayer." His first, to all the brave, was Who see the morrow's light; When old Sir Hilary charged amain At Agincourt, they say, Upon the bristling, warlike plain, Through all the weary day; 'Tis said that then a prayer he muttered, His first to all the brave and gay- They would, he knew, be "DRY." The next to those who nobly stood With spears as thick as "Birnam Wood," He promised them the martyr's cup, DRY UP!" unto the falling rain. Out of all these answers the reader will take his choice. We call attention to the fact that all of them whose origin is known came to us from New England, whose people are proverbially good at guessing. THE sudden transition from the sublime to the ridiculous was never more amusingly illustrated than it is by an actual occurrence in the family of a friend of the writer of this in Georgia. It necessarily trenches on serious things; and the desire of the Drawer to avoid every thing that may justly give offense to serious minds, is respected by all its sensible correspondents. But in the simple story we are about to tell there is so much truth to nature that we shall not hesitate to repeat it as it comes: "In one of the genteelest families of the State, Miss Mollie and Miss Peggie are two sisters. Miss Mollie is the eldest-a very upright and amiable young lady, whose good sense always prompts her to conduct herself with the utmost propriety under all circumstances. She is not a member of any church; but, like all well-bred young ladies, says her prayers before retiring. One night she carried with her to her room a pickle, and laid it upon her bureau, thinking she would eat it after her devotions. She knelt at the foot of her bed for the purpose. Peggie entered the room, and seeing her deeply absorbed, thought to improve the opportunity by appropriating the pickle to her own use. She had bitten off a piece, and in chewing it made a noise, which her sister heard, who, wishing to know the cause, looked up, and beholding Peggie devouring the pickle, hurriedly arose, exclaiming, 'O Lord! excuse me a moment; Peggie is eating up my pickle!' Peggie told it the next day. We laugh at Miss Mollie about it; but she takes it all in good part, and upholds her conduct admirably by averring that it is when in just such company that we are commanded to watch as well as pray.' IN Saybrook, Connecticut, of Platform celebrity, lived Roger Green, whose misfortune and vice it was to be a sad drunkard. He was a man of good family connections, but his habits made him a burden and disgrace to all who were compelled to own his relationship. The only good thing he was ever known to do, was to write the following epitaph for himself: "Here lies a dead man-who do you think? MANY of the readers of Harper's Magazine remember the great race, many years since, between the two famous horses, Eclipse and Sir Henry, over the Long Island Course. Eclipse, being a Northern horse, was backed by Northern men; and Sir Henry, for similar reasons, was the choice of the Southerners, among whom was the celebrated John Randolph, who had been betting heavily. While the decisive heat was being run, all eyes, of course, were intently fixed on the two horses, and the greatest excitement manifested. On the home stretch Sir Henry had slightly the advantage of Eclipse, and passed him, when John Randolph shouted, "Two to one on Sir Henry!" "I take that!" promptly answered a voice from the crowd around him. While this was passing, However, Eclipse recovered himself, and in turn passed Sir Henry. This, of course, was observed by Mr. Randolph, who, turning to the point whence the voice proceeded, said, in his inimitably sarcastic manner, "I didn't speak to you, Sir." "A FEW months since," writes a correspondent, "two of our well-known citizens, Mr. C and Mr. S, were sauntering through the streets of Cincinnati, viewing the sights, and of course looking into all the shop windows. Mr. C, who is somewhat of a wag, observed a man seated motionless in a show window, resting from his exertions in cleaning the panes, with his left elbow on his knee and his face in the palm of his hand. Drawing his companion's attention to the man, he remarked, in his careless way, "That's pretty natural; ain't it, John?' and, passing on a short distance, stopped. "Mr. S, however, stopped short, and, after viewing the supposed figure a moment or two, said, in a surprised yet confident manner, "Blamed if that don't look natural!' and approached the window for a closer inspection. Resting his hands on the railing, he stared fixedly at the figure; when, to his great surprise and discomfiture, the man, raising his right hand, with outspread fingers, to his nose, made a most significant gesture. Mr. S left rapidly, and to this day is plagued about the man in the window looking so natural." "LAWYERS and Judges have to stand the 'brunt' 854 of a good many jokes, and those of our State [Wisconsin] seem to have as light a load of it upon their shoulders as any in the Union. "Here is one, recently perpetrated in the hearing of your correspondent by a Judge of the Supreme Bench. "In a Dutch garden,' at the capital, a few evenings since, a few young men, who had been participating rather freely of 'lager,' sang two verses of Old Dog Tray;' and, amidst the clapping of hands, was heard the voice of one of the by-standers imitating the musical voice of a mule! The Judge, who sat close at hand, coolly rose, took off his chip hat, and said, "That is too natural to be artificial!' "Our man of mulish propensities gave the Judge credit for making the best 'hit,' and silently walked away, while the singers ordered a 'drink' for the Judge. It is needless to say that a deafening roar of laughter followed." THE Drawer's readers will be certainly under great obligations to the correspondent who contributes two or three things that follow: No Pennsylvania kitchens could boast of finer Irish 'maids' than my neighbor's, Mr. P, and our own, when graced by the respective presence of the two sisters, Bridget and Norah Snoddy. Young, blooming, cheerful, and refined to an unusual degree for girls in their situation in life, they did not lack for plenty of jolly Patricks to pay them the homage so dear to every woman's vanity; but, while Bridget (the younger) laughed, danced, joked and flirted with 'ivery jintlemon' who offered his 'attintions,' Norah preserved a dignified composure toward all her admirers, which, while it did not repel, neither excited any hopes as to who should be the favored one. At length Larry Dolan, a finelooking, dashing, independent son of Erin, appeared upon the field of contest, and soon the claims of all others shrank into insignificance before the might of his powerful attractions. A strong rivalry was excited between the sisters-the one fearlessly, the other timidly attesting her love for him in a hundred little ways; yet for a long time his choice remained undecided. Norah, finally, resolving upon a bold stroke for victory, fell sick. Larry's heart was 'broken intirely;' and in a few days she priHer affectionate navately became Mrs. Dolan. ture, however, prevented her from making any joyous demonstration or wifely acknowledgments before the defeated Bridget. 'Norah,' I asked of her one day, as, entering our kitchen, I saw her bidding her sister farewell, 'where will you live now since you are married?' At Dauphin, Miss.' 666 666 Why not here, in town?' "Who is "he," Norah?' I asked, with a know- "Larry Dolan, Miss!' she answered, hesita- "And who, pray, is Larry Dolan?' "A MAN of infinite wit and humor' was Samuel D. Franks, presiding Judge of Dauphin County some thirty years since. Gifted, among other intellectual traits, with powers of memory remarkably strong and active, he as often made it the tool with which to perpetrate practical jokes upon his 666 one. Halloa! Coleman, what's the news?' asked "Oh, don't bother me !' he amiably answered; I'm worried enough already. Franks read me an advertisement a few minutes ago about a splendid horse sale, but hang me if I can find it any where! Judge,' turning toward him, haven't you left me the wrong paper?' "Oh I guess not,' said the Judge, taking it from him, and coolly running his eye over the fourth page. Here's the place; I'll read it again.' "And commencing, he repeated, word for word, the column he had pretended to read half an hour previous. "Well,' said Mr. Coleman, scratching his organ Now just fold the paper up of marvelousness, 'it's the queerest thing that I couldn't find it too. tight and give it here; I'll take it home, and find it this time for sure!' "But that he never saw it was a fixed fact, since no such advertisement ever existed save in the fertile brain of Judge Franks." DURING Judge Franks' term of office, he had at one time associated with him Mr. F, of Harrisburg, a man remarkable for his mathematical talent, but not particularly brilliant in matters pertaining to the judiciary. At a certain morning session in court, a dispute arose between the lawyers and Judge relative to the correctness of some testimony that had just been rendered. Not being able to agree, Judge Franks, turning toward Judge F, whom he had observed busy with a paper during the trial, said, 666 Judge F―, you have been taking notes, I see; can not you set us right?' "No,' answered the surprised gentleman, slowly raising his head; I vas no takin any notes; I vas shust makin—a—c-o-w!'" TRUE to the life, and true to nature, is this beau tiful sketch: "A wee bit of a philosopher is our little Mary, and the truths which sometimes fall from her cher ry lips are quite as good as the 'pearls and diamonds' of fairy-tale memory. A few weeks ago, Mary and her mamma were sitting in the sunshine near an open window. Mamma was sewing, and Mary, not in a very good humor, with slate and pencil on her knee, was trying, with all earnestness, to copy the straight trunk of a locust-tree, whose flower-laden branches almost touched the window-sill. Four or five times she had brought the slate to mamma, asking, as she pointed to strokes as curved as rainbows, 'Ma, ain't it right this time?' 666 'No, darling,' mamma would say, rubbing out the lines, the real tree is straight, yours is very crooked; try once again.' "No, I won't,' said Mary, at last, petulantly; 'I am sick with trying; nobody could draw that old tree straight, and I'll just let it alone.' "Mamma sewed on very quietly. Mary pouted prodigiously a few minutes, then, without saying any thing, took up her blank slate and again sat down. A golden-breasted oriole was skimming through the leaves like an arrow of light; she watched him a moment, then, as her little white fingers again clasped the pencil, she began to sing, almost unconsciously. Now her eyes once more sought the abused tree; her hand moved slowly over the slate, faster and more merrily she sang, quicker and lighter grew the pencil touches, until suddenly bringing her song to an abrupt finale, and springing to her mother's side, she triumphantly displayed a correct drawing. 'Mamma,' she asked, after it had been sufficiently admired, 'do you know what made it come right this time? I just worked the music in !"" A CORRESPONDENT in Savannah, to whom we hope to be indebted for many contributions in future, furnishes several amusing reminiscences of a distinguished citizen of one of the Southern cities. He is long since dead, and there will be no one more pleased to read the anecdotes than the few who remember him. "Mr. Hwas a self-made man, and from extreme poverty became one of the wealthiest men in the city, and one of its most esteemed and best beloved citizens. He had no advantages of early education, and was very illiterate. But he was a man of rare good sense, and one of the best financiers in the country. Still, his ignorance of the English language led him into many amusing blunders, a few of which I send you. Some years before his death, an English nobleman was entertained by Mr. H, who, in addition to being a man of great wealth, was noted for his hospitality. He drove his guest over the city, and showed him all its lions,' and among other things, informed him that there were a great many descendants of the Juggernauts in the city! He meant Huguenots. "Mr. H- was for many years an Alderman. Soon after the death of Mr. Calhoun, a proposition was made to have a marble bust of that distinguished man executed and placed in the Council Chamber. Mr. Hwanted to amend the proposition and have a full-length bust ordered. "Some years before his death he visited Europe. When he returned his friends were anxious to know what he had seen that was remarkable. To one of these he replied that, while in Paris, he had visited the palace of the Fooleries! He went to Naples, and to Mount Usurious, where he saw the burning saliva thrown down to the height of many feet." "There are many other anecdotes of Mr. H, but I have given you enough for the present. I will give you an anecdote related to me by Mr. Simms, the great novelist, and which, he assured me, was founded on fact. "In the interior of South Carolina there lived, some years ago, an old man, very rich and very ignorant. His only son was educated at the South Carolina College, and after graduating was sent to Europe by his indulgent parent. On his return his father asked him what he saw in Europe. The son replied that he had seen a great many rare and wonderful sights, and many fine cities. "Did you see any place you liked better than home?' asked the old man. "Oh yes,' was the reply; 'I saw London and Paris, both very fine cities.' "Which did you like best?' queried the father. "Paris,' replied the son. "You liked Paris a great deal, did you?' continued the old man. "Oh yes, very much.' "Then I'll buy it for you! triumphantly replied the old gentleman." "COOTE was a civil engineer engaged upon one of the new railroads concentrating at Jackson, and when not in the field,' camped in his friend Holt's law-office. Holt once went off to an adjoining county on business, leaving Coote in full possession; but while Holt was gone, Coote received orders from his Chief to go to New Orleans after certain instruments. But what to do with the office key, so that others could not, yet Holt might find it, puzzled him. At last he spied a certain place to hide it where no one could ever find it without directions. "So he writes a letter to Holt all about it, hides the key, and vamoses. Holt came home, but rather than break a fine lock, kept out of his office three days until Coote returned. Meeting him at the dépôt, Holt, quite irate, asked him what he kept him shut out of his own office so long for-why he didn't leave the key, etc. 666 'Why,' said Coote, 'I did leave it hid for you, and left you a letter telling you where to find it.' "Left a letter!' said Holt, where, pray?' "Why, where else should I leave it, but sticking in the looking-glass on the mantle-piece, where you couldn't help seeing it.' "What looking-glass? What mantle-piece? Where?' "In your office, as a matter of course!' answered he, innocently; and he angrily wondered what Holt and all the by-standers 'guffawed' so about. "He was an ardent railroad man, and a regular A KENTUCKY Ccorrespondent sends his congratuattendant upon all railroad meetings, and his sound, lation to Harper on the success of the two great inpractical sense gave him much weight in these con- stitutions of the age, the Atlantic Telegraph and vocations. At one of them he moved, after the bus- the Drawer, and then he adds several capital sto iness was gone through with, that the meeting 'ad-ries, from which we take two or three. He says: journ sine die, to meet again next Tuesday night.' "During the last election in this State, a man |