But little is known of his boyhood. He probably had patches before and behind, like other orphans; wept over the grave of his mother in his sad moments, and crawled under the circus canvas in his hours of sunshine. Nothing in his demeanor attracted the attention of John Jacob Astor or Commodore Vanderbilt, and consequently he had more cuffs than fat clerkships. At the age of fifteen he was invited to go up in a balloon. He didn’t go. When he was seventeen he decided to become a pirate, and all the captains of the Erie canal discouraged him. At eighteen he was in the legislature--sat there and heard a speech and then left with the other spectators. At twenty he was foreman of a fire company, but was impeached because he couldn’t “holler” as loudly as “No. 7.” He had just reached his majority when he led a rich and beautiful girl to the altar--and handed her over to the bridegroom. He commenced in that year to be a “head-writer” on newspapers. Was almost daily informed that his proper sphere was acting governor of a state, or in commanding armies, but he stuck to journalistic work. He was funny from the start, but it took eighteen years to make people believe it. He has had many wives, and is the father of scores of happy children. He has had the cholera and small-pox, written articles varying from astronomy to the best manner of curing hams, been wrecked, shot, assassinated, and banished, and is to-day hale, hearty, and bald-headed. All reports about a steamboat blowing him up are canards. He blew the boat up. For further particulars see circulars. For ten years after M. Quad joined forces with the Detroit Free Press he wrote steadily for that journal, and rarely allowed an issue of the paper to be made without a humorous article from his pen. Since 1880, however, little or no humor has appeared, Mr. Lewis changing suddenly from a gay, rollicking style to descriptive sketches, thoughtful and pathetic. In 1881 he made a lengthy visit to the South and tramped over the old battlefields of the Rebellion. In the columns of the Free Press he described, in a series of weekly letters, the battles and the battlefields of the engagements with which he had been connected during the war. These letters were written under the title of Sixteen Years After, and signed by M. Quad. They have been copied extensively by the American and foreign press. One of the raciest things that has ever appeared from the pen of Charles B. Lewis, is the following: NEW YEAR’S ADDRESS. Once more the whirligig of time has yanked an old year out, and a new one in. Glad on’t. If there is anything lonesome and monotonous, it is last year. The old year had a few charms, but the new one promises to give them half a mile the start, and then go under the string first.