Richard.—Yu done wisely tew ask me questions in Natral history. I am perfektly at hum amung beasts, burds, and fishes. I kan tell whi the flea bights, whi the bull bellers, and whi the rinosseross hasn’t got but one tusk, and that on the top of his knoze. I hav writ the biography ov all theze kritters, from the genial muskeeter and pensiv cockroach klean up tew the elephant, with hiz trunk, and the lion, who hain’t got enny trunk at all. You ask me about the zebra. The zebra iz a striped hoss, the wildesst thing in natral history ov hiz size, and az hard tew civilize az the hyena, and az useless, when civilized, az the osstritch or the rattlesnaik. They don’t inhabit the United States at large; they may liv in Kanda, if they hav a mind to—I never hav been thare tew diskover. They are about the size ov a moderate mule, but they kant kik with the mule. Thare ain’t nothing that kiks for phun or kiks for a living that kan outkik a mule, except it iz an old-fashioned, Continental, revolushionary war, Fourth ov July musket. Put about 3 and a haff inches ov powder 491 into one ov theze old vetrans of 1776, ram it down heavy, and lay it on a stump, and tutch it oph with a slo match, and I had just az leafs stand in front ov it az tew stand in the rear ov it. Thare iz sum ov the oldest and crossest ov theze muskets that will kik, and even squeal, if yu go near them, whether they are loaded or not. The zebra iz ov no use whatever only tew look at, at 25 cents a chance, in sum circus tent, but after they are broke they are spilte for enny thing else. They are like all other wild animals—fleet only for a short distance; and civilizashun iz a grate damage tew them, just az it iz tew an injun. Deth iz the only kind ov civilizashun that an injun kan understand.

Caroline.—Yu ask me whi i dont write sweet, and sentimental, and luvly things.

I aint bilt right, Caroline, for that kind ov labor.

I am tew round-shouldered, tew write perfumed sentances.

When i git hold ov an idee, i hav tew let it go out, into the world, like a bird oph from mi hand, bareheaded, and barefooted, a sort ov vagrant.

If i should undertake tew dress it up in fine clothes, sum folks would say i stole the idee, and other folks would say i tried tew steal the clothes, tew dress it in, and got ketched at it.

I make no pretentions tew literature, i pay no homage tew elegant sentances, i had rather be the father ov one genuine, original truth, i don’t kare if it iz az humpbacked az a drumudary, than tew be the author ov a whole volume ov glittering cadences, gotten up, for wintergreen-eating schoolgirls tew nibble at.

Benjamin.—Horace Greeley iz not what may be termed a praktikal farmer, he iz what iz kalled a dikshionary farmer.

The papers tell us he looks for cabages on trees, digs for apples, hunts stun walls for hens eggs, haz tried tew improve the flavor ov mutton, by a kross ov the hidraulik ram on the south-down, splits the duks feet, so they kan stand a fair chance with a hen when they cum tew the skratch, combs hiz roosters heds, by cutting oph their topnots, lathers and shaves 492 hiz phatting hogs 3 times a week, makes his cows wear greengogles, so they will mistake shavings, and peabrush for clover, piks hiz geese once in 24 hours tew keep them cool, and throws away the feathers, digs a hoel in the ground and plants oats, a pek in a place, and runs a grind stun, and two pattent churns, by konnekting sum kind ov a pattent kontrivance to hiz cows tails in fli time.

Now if theze fakts are trew, Horace Greely iz not a praktikal farmer, he iz only a genius in husbandry a hundred years ahed ov the time.

I haven’t mutch doubt miself a hundred years from now science and theory, and book larning will have so changed agrikultur that every time a hen laze an egg, they won’t indulge in the silly kackel they do now, but will sing sum lively air, and the old rooster will dance tew the musik in front ov the nest.

Thare iz a good time comeing, so we are told, and we have waited so long for it, we might az well hang on now till it cums.

Prudence.—I received yure kind letter yesterday, and must admit that i kant answer yure question.

I don’t kno what a Dolly Varden iz.

I kno that all the ladys, when they walk out, hav an immense sight of clothes, all in one spot, about the center ov their backs, but whether this iz a Dolly Varden, or knot, I dont kno, and darsent ask.

I hav looked in Webster unabridged, and kant find it thare. I hav waded in the ensiklopedio, and lo! it aint thare. I have asked all mi bacheler friends, and they blush, and begin tew talk about the poets, Longfellow and Harry Bassett. I have spoke tew married men about it, (I am married too) and they say “hush” and pass on in a grate hurry, and I begin tew guess, the whole thing iz a kussid sell, got up expressly to Bear the market.

Prudence, I giv it up square, I dont kno what a Dolly Varden iz, and I aint a going tew try to find out enny more nuther, for I am satisfied, from what I hav found out about it allready, that it iz none ov mi bizzness.

Picayune.—The sucker iz not a game phish, the very name indicates that.

They won’t bight at a hook, and are a lazy set ov vagrants, emigrating in the spring ov the year, out ov muddy mill ponds, up sluggish streams, into the country.

They kant liv in swift water, they are too lazy tew ketch their breth in it.

They are az tasteless az a merino potatoe, and az for general intelligence, are jist about on a par, with a korn kob.

They are kaught with a spear, and thare iz just about az mutch sport in it, az stabbing seed cowcumbers in a garden, by moonlite, with a three-tined fork.

Howard.—Your letter iz come tew hand and its kontents karefully weighed, and I find that they don’t weigh heavy.

In reply, we beg leaf tew state that the North Pole haz not bin found out yet.

Du notiss ov its length, and its size at the butt, and the kind ov fowls that hav bin roostin on it, and the kind ov wood on which it iz bilt, and the amount ov kindling wood it would undoubtedly make, well split up, and its universal history will appear in the Spice Box collum, just az soon az the Pole iz got.

In the mean time keep cool, kultivate your mustash, be polite tew your ritch aunt, if you hav got one, studdy Hall’s guide tew health, and shun all grass-widders.

Caroline.—Yu ask us, “Which iz worth the most tew a woman, buty, or modesty.”

For a quick return, perhaps buty iz, but for an investment, for the sake ov the interest, we rekomend modesty.

Modesty never grows stale, but buty iz like bukwheat kakes, aint good kold, nor warmed up nex day.

We konsider buty one ov the best kollatterals that a woman kan possess, but if she haint got nothing else but buty, she aint no better off than she would be with a life insurance policy, which was forfeited for the non-payment of premiums.

Buty alone wont wear well, and thare iz a grate deal of it now daze that wont wash at all and keep its color.