It was well said by a saucy Frenchman, "that England had fifty religions but only one sauce." Paraphrasing this loosely, we may say of New-York, that she has a dozen different pavements and deuce a good one. There was the "Russ," on which the horses used to be "let slide," but couldn't trot; the "Belgian," of dubious repute; the "Nicholson," which, from its material, must have been invented by "Nick of the Woods;" the "Mouse-trap," set to catch other things than mice; the "Fiske," a pavement pitched in altogether too high a key to be pleasant; The "Stafford," the "Stow," and several others which it would be painful to enumerate here. Why doesn't the daily press look lively, and devise a better pavement than any of these? There's STONE, of the _Journal of Commerce_; WOOD, of the _News_; MARBLE, of the _World_; and BRICK, of the _Democrat_. Let them put their heads together and give us a good conglomerate. * * * * * A Hopeful Anticipation. Now that the darkeys are about to take part in national legislation, we shall probably be able to negrotiate a postal treaty with France. * * * * * On one Drowned. He left a large circle, etc.! * * * * * [Illustration: SYMPATHY WITH CUBA. _Enthusiastic Sympathizer._ "What I say is, we _must_ have our cigars; and _therefore_, Cuba _must_ be ours."] * * * * * PUNCHINELLO'S LYRICS. No. 1. Ho! I am the jolly repeater, And I train with the magical band, Who the legerdemain of the ballot With the skill of a wizard command. Once a year every poll I explore, Honest voting is Greenland to me; Free suffrage is ever my motto, To my amnesty judges agree. The trickster inspector I loathe, sir! Or the canvasser's pencils that thieve; Voting early and often is nobler Than ballots to change from one's sleeve. No eight hours' labor I ask for, Votes from sunrise to sunset I cast; They are bread on political waters, And my sinecures follow them fast. WILLIAM B. and his millionaire crew Will only vote once, sir; while I (Who to scorn laugh the honest assessors) Plump a score to their one--on the sly! Who asks for my name? I repeat it-- Ho! the jolly repeater am I; Each book of the registry knows me, And I'm now in the market--Who'll buy? (The above may be sung _da capo_, which is Italian for "repeat.") * * * * * Music and Morals in Chicago. The _Marriage of Figaro_ did not interest the Chicago people when it was produced in that peculiar city. Had it been called the "Divorce of Figaro," it would have aroused their warmest admiration. * * * * * MR. GREELEY'S AIDS TO LITERARY EFFORT.