The facts are these. We sat down, a few evenings since, after enjoying a comfortable cup of pure Java,—which we still continue to enjoy, notwithstanding the anathemas of a fellow with a villanous name, of “bran bread” repute,—to commit to paper a few notes of a conversation which we had with a relative long since. Having unluckily fallen into a doze, our devil, who had been going about for more than an hour roaring for copy, took a peep into the sanctum, and, seeing how matters stood, slipt off the following article, “in the crack o’ a thumb,” by way of filling up an odd form, which, in an unlucky fit of liberality, we had resolved to squeeze into the present number. It may well be supposed that, before we had fairly rubbed our eyes open, the _matter_ was blown to the world, and a whole avalanche of country cousins, who hail from Germantown, were down upon us. Of course we said at once that the article was not ours, as no man can be expected to acknowledge his guilt until it is proved upon him. This, however, did not satisfy them, although they professed to have no difficulty in believing it, for they continued to smoke their pipes with such fury, and swore so stoutly in real jaw-breaking Dutch—for every mother’s son is German, even to the cut of his pantaloons—that we were glad to get off upon the condition of making a handsome apology, which we think we have now fully done. Among the many delightful villages in Pennsylvania, which owe their origin to German settlers, and maintain, amid surrounding improvements, the unchanged marks of ancestry, there is none more prominent than Germantown. It is but half an hour’s drive from Philadelphia, extending along the main road for more than two miles, with, for the most part, old-fashioned stone houses, which date prior to the revolution, sprinkled plenteously on both sides of the road, forming a village of most unconscionable length, but—like the pockets of most dandies of the present day—with no depth or body to support its extensive pretensions. It is famous in history, as being the ground of a battle during the struggle for independence, in which victory, though for a time doubtful, declared for the enemy, in consequence of the incompetency of an American officer. The present inhabitants are mostly the descendants of German families—true sprigs of the old branches, imitating most of the virtues of their forefathers, indulging in no luxuries, pursuing a rigid economy, and clinging with an unyielding regard to the money bequeathed them. Nor is this regard in any degree weakened by the devices of those who have recently settled in the village, and who vainly hope by improving their houses, fitting up their grounds, and clipping and beautifying their shrubbery, to induce an imitation of their example. The old-roof tree stands, as it stood half a century ago, and the very stones of the building, from between which the mortar has in many cases