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some singular amalgamation of opposites, he was engaged to be married to one of the prettiest and sweetest girls in the township. A short time after the engagement became publicly known I was at the village blacksmith-shop. The usual number of loafers were on hand, and they were discussing with a good deal of warmth the outrage of marrying the sweet and youthful Miss P-to the old man with the swinish name, when the blacksmith, who had been dealing vigorous blows, and had warmed himself into a high state of excitement, rested his hammer for a moment and interrupted the conversation with, "Well, you may call it what you've a mind to, but it looks to me like casting pearls before swine!"

WE have throughout the rich soil regions of the West, where the land has been cultivated for many years, a pesterous weed known as the "wild convolvulus." It is particularly troublesome in cornfields-twining round the young corn with vigorous growth, it frequently chokes and destroys it. In consequence of the short supply of labor since our brave boys have gone to the war the farmers have, in many instances, supplied themselves with "contrabands," notwithstanding the barbarous laws which still disgrace the statute-book of our patriotic State. Two of them, of the original, untainted species, were endeavoring to subdue this troublesome weed, when the following colloquy was overheard between them: "Bill, what am dis weed dat grows so bountiful here?"

"Why, Jake, it am called de corn-volwulous. "De corn-volwulous! why do dey call it dat name?"

"Becase it wind itself round de corn, and kills de young corn, and dat am de reason why it am called de corn-volwulous."

"What does that look like?"

"That," interposed Mr. Ames, with a peculiar sniff of the nose-" that looks as though you were out of soap."

Of course this is good, for it comes from the Constant Reader of the Drawer in "Bosting:"

While crossing the East Boston Ferry on a very foggy morning not long since, I heard the following story from an old Down-East farmer, which struck me as about tough enough for the Drawer:

A rather loquacious individual was endeavoring to draw the old man into conversation, but hitherto without much success, the old fellow having sufficient discernment to see that his object was to make a little sport for the passengers at his expense. At length says loquacious individual:

"I suppose you consider Down East a right smart place; but I guess it would puzzle them to get up quite so thick a fog as we are having here this morning, wouldn't it?"

"Well," said the old man, “I don't know about that. I hired one of your Massachusetts chaps to work for me last summer, and one rather foggy mornin' I sent him down into the meadow to lay a few courses of shingle on a new barn I was finishin' off. At dinner-time the fellow came up, and, sez he, 'That's an almighty long barn of yourn.' Sez I, 'Not very long.' 'Well,' sez he, 'I've been to work all this forenoon, and haven't got one course laid yet.' 'Well,' sez I, 'you're a lazy fellow, that's all I've got to say.' And so after dinner I went down to see what he'd been about, and I'll be thundered ef he hadn't shingled more than a hundred foot right out on to the fog!"

A MICHIGAN admirer says:

We have a conductor on the railroad running through this place who is of a complexion so dark

ONE of our traveled correspondents mentions the as to make him the subject of frequent remark. following:

Mr. Graham, a very wealthy English gentleman living in Frankfort, of rather limited education, and who gives magnificent parties, was in turn invited to a dinner at the English consul's-given in honor of the marriage of the Prince of Wales. The English consul's name is Coke, and his father has been dead for about twenty years. After some toasts and wine had been drunk Mr. Graham got up and offered a toast, to be drunk in silence, viz., "The health of the late Mr. Coke-the worthy father of a worthy son."

HERE is a Western story, sent to the Drawer: The enterprising town of A-, in Northern Ohio, is the wheat-market for a considerable section of the wheat-belt of that State. The farmers are accustomed to haul their grain into town, and, sitting upon their wagons, surrounded by the wheatbuyers, who represent the various extensive flowering-mills of the town, sell it to the highest bidder. Quite a spirited competition frequently occurs.

At the time when the Democrats delighted to style themselves the "Hard-fisted Democracy" it happened that a Mr. Camp, of the Democratic persuasion, and a Mr. Ames, of opposite politics, met at the wagon of a Democratic farmer. The farmer and Mr. Camp, who were old acquaintances, were congratulating each other upon their unswerving adherence to their party, when Mr. Camp, becoming enthusiastic, and holding out his brawny hand, cried out, exultingly,

The other day he had a scuffle with a negro, whom he was trying to eject from the car. After a great deal of effort he succeeded. Returning into the car, he said to a man with whom he had been conversing, "I suppose you would have let him put me overboard before you would have come to my help."

"Well, no," replied his friend; "the fact is, I did start, but as I couldn't tell which was the nigger I was afraid to interfere."

THERE lives in the town of Hokah (for State, vide Gazetteer) a witty old Canadian Frenchman, named Peter Douey. Now Peter can neither read nor write, but manages to have an opinion on most subjects, and is withal glib with his tongue. Some winters ago Peter joined the village Lyceum, and took an active part in its grave discussions. There belonged to the Lyceum a young man, Tom Johnson, who was always poking fun at old Peter; and on one occasion had called Peter to order a number of times. Peter bore it for some time with all the patience of a martyr, but at last becoming tired of it, he turned to the Chairman, with a peculiar twinkle in his eye, and exclaimed:

"Mr. Chairman, de gentleman ob de oder side remind me very mooch ob one bas-wood board. He swell and he shrink a great deal more dan der is of him in de fust place!"

Tom subsided, with the remark-sotto voce-"I accept the gentleman's apology." The audience cheered, and Peter was permitted to finish his remarks without further interruption.

Fashions for October.

Furnished by Mr. G. BRODIE, 300 Canal Street, New York, and drawn by VOIGT from actual articles of Costume.

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NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

No. CLXII. NOVEMBER, 1863.-VOL. XXVII.

PICTURES OF THE JAPANESE.-I. LIFE IN THE CAPITAL.

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THE EVENING MEAL.

IR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK, for three years British Minister at the court of the Tycoon, has written a book upon Japan and the Japanese. No other man who has written upon this strange country and peculiar people has had so good opportunities for personal observation. For a time he was able to traverse the capital and its environs at pleasure, and made several extensive tours into the coun, try. Although Sir Rutherford appears to be a rather wrong-headed gentleman, and by no means a keen observer or brilliant narrator, he has produced the best work yet published upon Japan; and unless our own Minister, Mr. Townsend Harris, gives us the results of his still wider ob

The Capital of the Tycoon: a Narrative of a Three Years' Residence in Japan. By Sir RUTHERFORD ALCOCK, K.C.B., Her Majesty's Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary in Japan. Two Volumes, with Maps and numerous Illustrations. Harper & Brothers.

servations, it will probably be long before we have another as valuable.

Reserving for a future paper an account of the Government, Institutions, and Polity of the Japanese, we propose, under the guidance of Sir Rutherford, to pay a visit to the "Capital of the Tycoon," making free use of the illustrations with which he has furnished us, selecting especially those in which Japanese artists have set forth the peculiarities of their countrymen. These illustrations, though deficient in many artistic qualities, are nevertheless highly suggestive, and not unfrequently manifest a most un-Asiatic sense of humor.

Yeddo is the "Capital of the Tycoon," in distinction from Miaco, the residence and prison-house of the Mikado, or titular Emperor, which enjoys the distinction of being the nominal capital of the Empire of "the Rising Sun." It is to Japan all that Paris is to France. The

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by Harper and Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.

VOL. XXVII.-No. 162.-Z z

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"Daimios," or great nobles, are obliged to reside there for half the year, and during the other half, when they are absent, their families must remain as securities for their good conduct. The retainers of each of these nobles, who are almost independent princes at home, are numbered by the thousand, and constitute a distinctive part of the population. The entire population of the city is reasonably estimated at two millions. Yeddo is thus the second city on the globe in point of population, London only exceeding it.

The site is magnificent. A broad valley,

girdled with woods, green all the year round, and crowned with undulating hills, slopes down to the edge of a land-locked bay, into which the fierce Pacific vainly tries to pour its stormy waters. Nature has placed at the mouth of the bay a breakwater of verdant headlands and volcanic islands. This valley is crossed by ravines, water-courses, and ridges, around and over which wind the streets. The loftiest ridge is crowned by the Tycoon's castle, around which are the Yamaskas, or residences of the Daimios, encircled by a triple line of moats. This is the "official quarter." The streets climb the hills,

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