Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by RUDD & CARLTON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. R. CRAIGHEAD, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, Carton Building, _81, 83, and 85 Centre Street_. NOTHING TO SAY. * * * * * I, Q. K. P. DOESTICKS, of No Hall, Nowhere; No Castle, no Villa, no Place, Court, or Terrace; Who didn't write "Junius," or "Nothing to Wear," Who never have visited London or Paris; Who am not a phantom, a myth, or a mystery, But a "homo," as solid as any of history; As real as Antony, Caesar, or Brutus,-- A wide-awake Yankee, so "tarnation 'cute" as To always write Nothings, while Nothings will pay, Am the author of this Nothing--Nothing to Say. * * * * * I mention this fact in advance, that Miss P*** May not strive to embezzle the laurels from me. That her Reverend friend may attend to his Litany, And leave me my fame, if perchance I shall get any. I deemed it best, to set at rest, This question before it was started, lest Some terrible girl from the far coun_tree_, Without proper regard to veraci_tee_, Should haste to town, to drag me down From my envied post of poetic renown. Miss P***, I've a favor to ask.--If 'tis true, That "Nothing to Wear," and "Nothing to Do," And "Nothing to Eat," were all written by you,-- Let those three Nothings content you I pray, Say nothing yourself; leave me "Nothing to Say." * * * * * From time immemorial, people of fashion Have been the target of poets and penny wits, And been lampooned without stint or compassion, From Dan to Beersheba--from Dublin to Dennevitz; And our now-a-day rhymsters, taking the cue, Have aimed all their shots at the Fifth Avenue, Till the clever author of "Nothing to Wear," Fired his broadside at Madison Square. Now _I_ don't consider this sort of thing personal, _I'm_ not a bit of a dandy or fop; But the seed it is constantly sowing, is worse than all Others, and bears a most plentiful crop; For it all goes to strengthen the popular fallacy That, because a man lives in a "brown stone palace" he Must be a miser, a rogue and a knave, Without soul enough to condemn or to save-- [Illustration: Page 28.]