“We received a letter several days ago from a gentleman, enclosing an announcement of his marriage, and stating that he had also enclosed the sum of seventy-five cents to pay for it. The letter did not enclose the money; but the next day we got another letter from the same gentleman, stating that it had occurred to him, after he had mailed the first note, that he had not enclosed the money; ‘and I therefore,’ says the second epistle, ‘enclose to you the amount;’ but, instead of seventy-five cents, the letter only contained twenty-five. A day or two afterwards we received two more letters from the same person, each enclosing fifty cents. The first of the two letters stated that the writer, having discovered his mistake, enclosed fifty cents more to make up the amount. In the second letter the gentleman says, that ‘having learned that the mail containing my last letter was destroyed by fire, I enclose now another fifty cents.’ Our friend’s singular confusion is no doubt attributable to the fact which in his original note he requested us to announce.” _A SCENE AT THE PHILADELPHIA POST-OFFICE._ DIDN’T LIKE THE IDEA.—A single female, apparently forty-five years of age, with a very scraggy neck and weazened features, made her appearance yesterday afternoon at the ladies’ window in the post-office. “I want to get back a letter.” “What for, madam?” “Why, I dropped it in the box over yonder. I want to take it back again.” “That’s against our rules, ma’am; I am not allowed to give back a letter unless I know all about it.” “Well, then, there’ll be a fuss here, that’s all: I want my letter again.” “I’ll call the chief clerk, then, ma’am. You can make the fuss with him, if you must have one.” Mr. Booth was summoned. With his usual blandness he asked the lady how the letter was directed, and to whom. He obtained a prompt reply. He found that the lady had dropped the letter into the box under the general delivery-window. He produced it from the basket after a little search, and returned it to her. She appeared considerably pleased, brushed off the letter with her handkerchief, and at once dropped it into the basket under the ladies’ window, before which she was standing. “Why, I thought you wanted to take out the letter!” said Mr. Booth, in some surprise. “Here you’ve mailed it again.” “That’s all right now,” said the woman. “That’s what I wanted. I dropped the letter in the wrong place fust, among the men’s letters. I hate the men, so I do. I hain’t goin’ to have my letter mixed up with men’s letters, nohow.” “You dislike the male sex then, madam?” “I don’t hate you mail folk, as I know on, wuss than the rest on ’em.” “I mean the men, madam; you dislike them?” said Mr. Booth, emphasizing the title of masculinity. “Oh, the men! Of course I hate ’em. I wouldn’t trust one of ’em anigh me. They’re a deceivin’, lyin’”——