The great pride, the _dulce decus_ of Americans, has long been in their pocket hardware, and the skill with which they use it. But we must henceforth look to our laurels. France is competing alarmingly with us in the use of the revolver. They were always a revolutionary people, were the French, and revolving seems, therefore, to suit their temper to a T, (Gunpowder T, of course.) Since the slaying of NOIR by BONAPARTE, the affectation of readiness with the pistol has become quite the thing in Paris. New-York and Paris will soon be exactly alike in the bullet business—especially Paris. PAUL DE CASSAGNAC, it seems, has been invited by some anonymous person to meet him at a certain hour in front of the _mairie_ of the Seventeenth _arrondissement_, for the purpose of having his brains removed with a revolver. PAUL declined to go, however. The _Mairie_ mentioned in the cartel was not the one for PAUL. Probably he would have gone to VIRGINIA, had he been invited to do so; but never a MAIRIE for the faithful PAUL. And might have come by way of New-York, where he would soon have grown so used to having his brains removed with a revolver that the process would have become a pleasure to him. PHILADELVINGS. PUNCHINELLO cannot help liking Philadelphia, and always feels a pang of sympathy whenever any thing happens to that plain old city. One reason for this is, (and he is not ashamed of the weakness,) that Philadelphia likes PUNCHINELLO and takes, weekly, he would not be vain enough to say how many hundred copies of his journal. And now Philamaclink, as her natives love to call her, is afflicted with a terrible disease—a fearful attack of chronic Legislature. Even when the active symptoms of this dread malady have subsided, the effects linger, and the consequent suffering is excruciating. One of the direst of the effects of the last attack is a dreadful bill—not a bile—which has caused a utilization sewage company to appear upon her body corporate. It is almost impossible for sister cities to understand the torments of such an affliction. Nobody can now clear away their own dirt—Councils, Board of Health, or any body else. If rooms are swept, the sewage company must take up the dust; if a pig-pen or a stable needs cleaning, the company must do it; if the lady of a house throws the slops out of her breakfast cups, the company must carry them away; if a man knocks the ashes from his cigar, he must save them for the company; if, anywhere in the city, a foul word is spoken, the company must have the benefit of it. Even the birds in the squares must not cleanse their nests without a printed permit from the company. If a bedstead is cleaned, the company must have the bugs. Only one dirty thing is safe from this all-powerful corporation, and that is the legisiative delegation from the city. If the refuse matter were taken from that, there would be nothing left. It has been proposed that the Legislature itself should