In another instance, Adeler gets off the following horrible concoction: “O! bury Bartholomew out in the woods, In a beautiful hole in the ground, Where the bumble-bees buzz and the woodpeckers sing, And the straddle-bugs tumble around; So that in winter, when the snow and the slush Have covered his last little bed, His brother Artemas can go out with Jane And visit the place with his sled.” Then, I am pleased to give another choice selection from Clark’s wonderful storehouse: “The death angel smote Alexander McGlue, And gave him protracted repose; He wore a checked shirt and number nine shoe, And he had a pink wart on his nose. “No doubt he is happier dwelling in space Over there on the evergreen shore. His friends are informed that his funeral takes place Precisely at quarter past four.” The same volume contains an admirable bit of drollery in the following take-off on art criticism: ART NEWS. We have received from the eminent sculptor, Mr. Felix Mullins, of Wilmington, a comic _bas_ _relief_, designed for an ornamental fireboard. It represents an Irishman in his night-shirt running away with the little god Cupid, while the Irishman’s sweetheart demurely hangs her head in the corner. Every true work of art tells its own story; and we understand, as soon as we glance at this, that our Irish friend has been coquetted with by the fair one, and is pretending to transfer his love to other quarters. There is a lurking smile on the Irishman’s lips, which expresses his mischievous intentions perfectly. We think it would have been better to have clothed him in something else than a night-shirt, and to have smoothed down his hair. We have placed this _chef d’œuvre_ upon a shelf in our office, where it will undoubtedly be admired by our friends when they call. We are glad to encourage such progress in Delaware art. Adeler has given the public an admirable satire in his IMPROVED CONGRESSIONAL RECORD.