A newspaper item tells about a horse in Chicago that chews tobacco.
Well, we can beat that in New York. Only a few days ago we saw Commodore VANDERBILT driving one of his fast teams in Harlem Lane, and both the horses were Smoking like mad.
But the item adds that the Chicago horse actually picks the hostler's pocket of tobacco.
Well, that is just what one might expect of a Chicago horse.
THE WATERING PLACES.
PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS.
After, all there is nothing like nature, in her primevality. When man attempts to add a finishing-touch to the loveliness of the forest, lake, or ocean, he makes a botch of it. What would the glowing tropics be, if Park Commissioners had charge of them? The heart, sick of the giddy flutterings of Man, seeks the sympathy of the shadowy dell, where the jingle of coin is heard not, and where the votaries of fashion flaunt not their vain tissues in the ambient air.
So, last week, thought Mr. P., and the moment he could get away he went on a little trip to the Dismal Swamp.
There he found Nature--there was primevality indeed! An instantaneous rapport took place between his feelings and the scene; of which the delicious loveliness can be imagined from this picture.