MR. MERRY--I wish very much to have the story of Philip Brusque continued. I wish to know what Mr. Bonfils did. Was he a good king, and did they have any more riots? If you will “lift the curtain,” you will satisfy my wishes, and oblige A SUBSCRIBER. _Boston, March 5, 1842._ The “Meditations of an Old Man” are a little too melancholy for our young readers; they do not like to weep very often, and I expect that Bob Merry’s story will, by and bye, call for all the tears they can spare. I insert the following with pleasure. It seems that young _Bare-Head_ is a “Wolverene;” and if he will tell his real life and adventures, no doubt they will be worth hearing. What a good title it will be!--“The Adventures of Ben Bare-Head, the Wolverene!” MASTER BARE-HEAD’S PUZZLE. I am a name of 13 letters. My 5, 3, 13, is a stupid fellow. My 4, 8, 1, 5, 6, 7, is a kind of shrub. My 13, 5, 1, is a nickname. My 1, 5, 11, 6, 7, often takes place between two individuals. My 6, 7, 2, 4, 10, is a pleasing diversion. My 3, 12, 10, 5, 1, is a useful agent. My 5, 13, 7, 10, 4, is what we every day behold. My 9, 11, 5, 12, 10, is what I am. My 6, 7, 10, 3, 13, has ruined many. My 4, 7, 5, 1, 10, many do not possess. My 7, 2, 11, is what I have not got. My 6, 2, 9, 7, is what a Hoosier seldom sees. My 7, 8, 12, is common in Michigan. My 1, 5, 9, 12, is often seen in Boston. My 6, 7, 10, 4, 12, is a convenient article. My 11, 10, 10, 12, 7, 5, 6, 7, 10, makes cross women. My 1, 8, 13, 10, 8, 1, will doubtless be a benefit to the rising generation. My whole may well be considered the pride of America. When this is solved, you shall have a harder one. BEN. BARE-HEAD. _Bertrand, Michigan, Jan. 31, 1842._ The following lines are pretty good for so young a writer:-- THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH, THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN. Brightly o’er those proud cities The morning sun arose, And over those princely palaces His robe effulgent throws. But whether on stately palace, Or spire, or idol fane, He shows his gorgeous coloring There it ne’er must rest again. And lovely, O most lovely, Was the scene he shone on, now! From the verdant flower-decked vale, To the mountain’s pine-clad brow, With the crystal stream’s meandering flow, And its waters dancing bright,-- All nature teems with beauty, With joy, and life, and light. And from every shrub and flower What a fragrant perfume breathes, While fruit of almost every clime Hangs in rich clusters from the trees; And birds, of plumage rich and rare, Pour forth their notes of love, In strains so wild, so thrilling, sweet, From every sheltering grove!