Puzzles. My first and last are man’s beginning; My ninth, ’leventh, twelfth, a school-boy’s task; My fifth, tenth, sixth, a welcome winning, If maids consent when lovers ask. My second, third and fourth, to do, Is but the lot of human creatures; Seven, eight, nine, ten--if books are true-- Bore once a goddess’ form and features; My first half--save a single letter-- Denotes a jolly, one-legged fellow; My other half--perchance the better-- Doth mean a thing with covers yellow. Such is my riddle--can you guess it? If so, pray write us, and confess it. And if you think you’d like to try it, Why, send a dollar--and you’ll buy it. A friend has sent us the following. Will any of our readers tell us the secret? I am a name of 28 letters. My 1st, 15th, 28th, 23d, 11th, 9th, and 5th, is a town in the East Indies. My 3d, 2d, 6th, 25th, 13th, 26th, 9th, and 9th, is what some persons hate to see. My 4th, 24th, and 13th is a vehicle much in use. My 22d, 5th, and 7th, is a domestic animal. My 14th, 17th, and 10th, is a kind of grain. My 13th, 12th, 9th, and 11th, is a nickname. My 16th, 18th, 8th, and 6th, is a great blessing. My 19th, 21st, and 7th, is much to be pitied. My 14th, 27th, 20th, and 2d, is a beautiful flower. My 4th, 21st, 25th, 7th, 27th, and 6th, is a great article of commerce. C. B. F. Varieties. ONCE on a time, a Dutchman and a Frenchman were travelling in Pennsylvania, when their horse lost a shoe. They drove up to a blacksmith’s shop, and no one being in, they proceeded to the house to inquire. The Frenchman rapped and called out, “Is de smitty wittin?” “Shtand pack,” says Hans; “let me shpeak. Ish der plack-smit’s shop in der house?” * * * * * WHY are lovers’ sighs like long stockings? Because they are _heigh ho’s_. * * * * * WHY is a child seated down to perform a long sum, like a thermometer at zero? Give it up?--Because it is down to cipher. HYMN FOR THE NEW YEAR. THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM; THE LATTER BY GEO. J. WEBB. [Illustration: music] Another year is past and gone, Bearing its wishes, hopes and fears, As winds, the leaves,--away, away-- To rest with-in this vale of tears. Another year upon us breaks, Bringing its budding cares and joys-- And, like a flowery lawn, invites Us on to pluck its blooming toys. Yet as the circling seasons pass, Chasing each other in their flight-- Oh let us not forget that each Doth on the heart its record write! And let us all remember well, That record we must bear above; Oh may it in the judgment hour Shine with the heavenly lines of love! MERRY’S MUSEUM.