THE NEW POSTAGE RATES.

Westport Times, Volume V, Issue 787, 11 March 1871, Page 4

THE NEW POSTAGE RATES.

In Wisconsin, the other day, about twelve, meridian, a precocious youth of seven summers was trying to discover what made his gun go off by looking down the barrel. A coroner's inquest was held that afternoon. An English paper contains the following : —For some time past electricians have been trying to discover a way to send two messages at the same time along a single wire. We understand that the problem has been solved by Mr- C. F. Varley, who has devised a method by which four currents can be delivered by a single wire. Figaro prints the following bit ot information : —" Lord Eldon, who has just died in London, has left all his fortune to the lunatic asylum of Bedlam. ' I leave,' said he in his will, ' to madmen afortune I owe to madmen.' Lord Eidon was a lawyer." A Missouri paper calls an affray in which one gambler blazed away at another several times, and killed an innocent man, " a careless use of firearms." The water of that famous mineral in Fairmount Park, the Boston Post says, tastes " like damaged pork-pickle drunk out of an old boot." The art of advertising is ever advancing. . Behold another example to illustrate the undoubted fact. It comes from America, ever ingenious in the discovery of new methods of publicity. A newspaper in Georgia publishes an advertisement to the following effect: —•' The last words uttered by great men are often singularly characteristic. Their tone of solemn prophecy does not fail to produce in us the

most profound impressions. ' The vanguard of the army,' murmured the great Napoleon when his mighty soul took its departure from its tenement of clay. ' More light,' sighed Goethe. 'Crown me with flowers,'said Mirabeau. ' Give me a chair to M. Dayrqller,' said Lord Chesterfield in his supreme agony. ' Charge, Chester, charge ; on, Stanley, on,' were the last words of Marmion. 'Bury mo', said Jack Bowers, 'in a suit made by Messrs. So and So ; the cut and excellence of the matorial are warranted, and I wish to be buried as I have lived, dressed like a gentleman.'" An American sporting paper records the death of a notable character—Old Charley the throughbred chesnut gelding, some 30 years or less of age, once the favorite saddle horse of Jeff Davis. He was a promising runner, says his biographer, and like his ancestor— O'Kulloy's famous Eclipse—could run considerable inside of a mile in a minute. He was cut off in the flower of his youth and beauty, while running a four-mile dash, dropping in his tracks. As he was cold and stiff when he fell, a scientific investigation was instituted, disclosing the fact that he must have run the last two miles stone dead, from sheer force of habit. The cause of his death remains undetermined. The probabilities are however, that getting out of breath (or oats) had something to do with his demise. That his soul may rest in peas (or some better feed), and that in recollection of his life of usefulness, his hide may escape the tanner's greedy clutch, is the hope of his ardent admirer.. I have finally cum tew the konklusion that thare ain't truth euuff in the world just now to do the bizzness with, and if sum kind ov kompromize kant be had, the devil might as well step in and run the consam at onst. Don't tell the world your sorrow's enny more than you would your shaim. Felosophers are like graveyards—they take all things just as they cum, and giv them a decent burial and a suitable epitaff. Enny body kan tell where lightning struck last, but it takes a smart man tew find cut where it iz going to strike next time--this izone ov the differences between laming and wisdom. Sailors heave the lead for the purpose ov finding the bottom, not for the purpose ov going there—it iz not so much for the purpos ov follerin it, az for I purpos of strenthening their own plans. I have a fust rate rekoleckshun, but no memory. I kan rekoleckt distinctly ov losing a 10 dollar bil once, but I kant remember where, for mi life.— " Josh Billings." A Silly Pat ! The other day an Ordnance-office Irishman walked up to a pillar letter-box. Above Bar, dropped in a letter (unstamped), and after it a shilling. He stood for some time knocking, and getting no answer, he cried down the pillar, " Please can I get my change ?" He speedily took refuge in a dram shop over the way, to compute his loss.

The advantage a chimney sweep has is, that his calling " soots" him.