PUZZLE, NO. 5. I am a word of 9 letters. My 9, 8, 8, 1, is the name of a number. My 4, 8, 1, 3, 7, is the name of a kind of house. My 9, 5, 3, 3, is the name of a large cask. My 6, 5, 3, 9, is what butchers often do. My 1, 2, 3, 4, is a nickname. My 8, 2, 3, 4, is what every animal in creation does. My 6, 2, 3, 7, is the name of a small pet animal, to be found in almost every house. My 4, 5, 3, 9, is an exclamation signifying “Let alone!” My 1, 8, 3, 4, is an implement used by fishermen. My 1, 5, 3, 9, is found in the woods. My whole is the name of a great sandheap. * * * * * COME out here, and I’ll lick the whole of you; as the boy said ven he seed a bottle full of sugar sticks in a shop window! To my Correspondents. Whew! what a lot of letters I have got from my little black-eyed and blue-eyed friends, this month! Some contain answers to old puzzles, and some contain new puzzles, and some put questions which puzzle me not a little. However, I am very glad to hear from anybody who takes an interest in poor Bob Merry; and I think all the better of young people, who can be kind to an old fellow with a wooden leg, and content to hear stories from one who never went to college. I feel cheered by these pleasant, lively letters; and sometimes, when my old pate reels with hard work, and my eyes grow dim as I think over the sad fortunes that pursue me, I go to the package of my correspondents, and there find consolation. “No matter--no matter,” say I to myself, “if all the world deserts or abuses me, at least these little friends will be true to me!” So, thereupon, I wipe my eyes, clean my spectacles, whistle some merry tune, and sit down to write something cheerful and pleasant for my Magazine. Well, now I say again, that I am much obliged to my kind friends, and I am glad to observe that _they always pay their postage_. Only one instance to the contrary has occurred: my little friend, Cornelius W----, of Newark, New Jersey, forgot to pay the postage on the specimen of his handwriting that he sent me. I mention this for his benefit, because the habit of forgetting to do things as they ought to be done is a very bad habit. Suppose, for instance, that a person should get into the habit of eating carelessly; why, at last, instead of eating the meat, and rejecting the bones, he might swallow the bones, and reject the meat! Think of that, Master Cornelius. * * * * * I have received the answers of A. L., W. H. S., C. F. W. P., F. A. S., and others, to the puzzles in the March number, all of which are right. The first is _Bunker Hill Monument_; the second is _A Black-eyed Friend_. The following request I will reflect upon.