Long Branch and Short Branch.
While Branch rusticates upon the Island, Long Branch has had the honor of a most distinguished assembly, lay, clerical and divine. While Alderman Clancy, pink of municipal Nestors, has consented to bloom away from Blossom Lodge, and here to perform the duties of the Mayoralty, his Honor, the great Puttyman, comfortably dozes to the music of Jersey musquitos, his repose only broken by the unwelcome intrusion of John McKeon—the leanest of Pharoah’s lean kine. His Honor and the inevitable John, although doubtlessly the master spirits of the mysterious conference held at the Branch, and which will probably be elucidated after the next election, however played second fiddle to Archbishop Hughes, a venerable prelate, who, well aware of the qualities of putty, can mould it at his will. What Peter Cooper does at the conference beyond yarning, it is difficult to imagine, his peculiarities being generally limited to that operation of the muscles. If these worthy gentlemen can conceive that they can use the Archbishop for their political purposes, they are slightly mistaken, for that enthusiastic prelate is too old a bird to be caught by any kind of chaff, and we doubt whether Puttyman & Co. can manufacture salt enough from the Atlantic ocean to be placed on his venerable tail. We may remind this scheming crew, that, some years ago Governor Seward and his private governor, Thurlow Weed, attempted a sale of the worthy Archbishop, who, in return for the compliment, bought himself in and sold out his would-be purchasers at a remarkably low figure. With this decided case before their eyes, we beg to caution poor Puttyman and Peter to keep their eyes skinned, otherwise they may be found embalmed within the new Cathedral.