I had the pleasure of being well acquainted with Mr. Charles H. Webb, a truly funny "funny man," who had homes in New York and Nantucket. His slight stutter only added to the effect of his humorous talk. His letters to the New York _Tribune_ from Long Branch, Saratoga, etc., were widely read. He knew that he wrote absolute nonsense at times, but nonsense is greatly needed in this world, and exquisitely droll nonsensical nonsense is as uncommon as common sense. The titles of his various books are inviting and informing, as _Seaweed and What We Seed_. He wrote several parodies on sensational novels of his time. _Griffith Gaunt_, he made fun of as "Liffith Lank"; _St. Elmo_, as "St. Twelmo." _A Wicked Woman_ was another absurd tale. But I like best a large volume, "_John Paul's Book_, moral and instructive, travels, tales, poetry, and like fabrications, with several portraits of the author and other spirited engravings." This book was dedicated, "To the Bald-Headed, that noble and shining army of martyrs." When you turn to look at his portrait, and the illuminated title page, you find them not. The Frontispiece picture is upside down. The very ridiculosity of his easy daring to do or say anything is taking. He once wrote, in one of those trying books, with which we used to be bored stiff, with questions such as "What is your favourite hour of the day? He wrote dinner hour; what book not sacred would you part with last? My pocket-book. Your favourite motto? When you must,--you better." I especially liked the poem, "The Outside Dog in the Fight." Here are two specimens of his prose: