ance to the auditors of adequate treatment. If this "oration of the first class" did not also prove a first-class oration, if the orator "chanced to fall below," etc.—as we cannot believe—at least the inspiring name was not at fault.
— If the velocipede could once become naturalized here, it would pretty surely become popular also. The boy's toy of that name has been, of course, known for twenty or thirty years, and gives a good general idea of the sort that is used in Paris; but a new American pattern employs but two wheels, one behind the other, in the same plane, and to learn to ride it without capsizing is quite an art of itself. Distressed as Americans are, on the one hand, by the lack of good, cheap, fast street conveyances, and on the other by the loss of time in walking, this invention of the velocipede should certainly be more useful here than in Paris. We hear appetizing accounts of races for wagers between horses and velocipedes—won by the latter; of races between stages and even steam engines and velocipedes—won easily by the latter. The propelling power is the feet; the steering is done by the hands; the seat is arranged with springs; and there is even a brake for down hill. At first the notion of introducing this vehicle for ordinary locomotion seems absurd; and comic draughtsmen and wits might find an inexhaustible new mine in the possible adventures. But a velocipedestrian bowling along at twelve miles an hour could afford to be laughed at by sore-footed travellers; and, as to expense, surely it would cost a mere trifle to keep a stud of such horses—only a few drops of oil a day.
— The bill introduced into the last session of Congress for taxing coats-of-arms, gave rise to many sharp and good-natured hits, in the press, against those people who have lately had armorial bearings made up to order. Among other things it was slyly hinted that the devices and mottoes selected were chosen or invented for the would-be patricians, entirely with regard to artistic effect, and not for any special appropriateness. We have lately heard a story of the same general sort, which might appear incredible but for its unquestionable authority. A man, whom we will charitably call Jones, having unexpectedly received a great deal of money by a happy turn of fortune, thought it necessary to forthwith set up his own carriage, and accordingly gave the necessary orders to the carriage maker. In due time, a magnificent equipage appeared, with Mr. and Mrs. Jones radiant within, and a magnificent W in the highest style of scroll work on the panel. "W?" said an astonished friend, whom the delighted owner stopped and greeted, "Why, good gracious, Jones, don't your name begin with a J?" "Yes, of course," replied Jones, with conscious superiority, "but then W looks so much handsomer, that I had that put on instead!"
— Hot political campaigns are apt to originate more than one bit of humor, more especially where appeals are directly made to the people as judges by rival candidates for office. Some years ago, in a certain locality. Dr. B. and Squire L. were nominated for the same position by opposing parties, and both undertook to announce their claims from the same "stump." To Dr. B.'s lot it fell to speak first. The doctor was a pompous little man, who had more conceit than brains, and who looked with an undeserved contempt on the dry old squire who was to follow him. Having finished his speech, the doctor, thinking to disconcert his opponent at the start, called out, "Now, squire, I want to hear your eloquent voice in reply. Come, I will listen patiently — I am all ears?" "All ears!" drawled the old squire, with his inimitable emphasis and inflection, as he coolly rose—"All ears—yes, that is just what the matter with you is, doctor." It is needless to add that the audience burst into a roar against the unfortunate doctor, who, we must add, was not elected. He retired thereafter from political life, but the nickname of "all ears" stuck to him, and, for aught we know, does to this day.
