petrified substance, and I began to breathe again, and slowly improved till daylight, When I embraced a sweet repose, And snored like thunder through my nose. (To be continued to my last scream.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator. ------------------------------------------------------ NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1858. ------------------------------------------------------ STEPHEN H. BRANCH’S “ALLIGATOR” CAN BE obtained at all hours, (day or night,) at wholesale and retail, at No. 128 Nassau Street, Near Beekman Street, and opposite Ross & Tousey’s News Depot, New York. ------------------------------------ Supervisor Blunt, and Paul Julien—My Last Interview with Madame Sontag. When I taught Alderman Orison Blunt the English branches at his elegant residence in Murray street, I gave instruction to Paul Julien, the juvenile Paganini, and to Rocco, and also to Madame Sontag in elocution, in anticipation of her appearance in English Opera at Niblo’s, on her return from Mexico. At the close of a long and interesting lesson, Sontag opened her great heart to me, and disclosed her career from her earliest recollection. Her narrative was eloquent and exciting, and as she sat before me at the parlor lattice, in alternate tears and smiles, with the moon rolling like a ball of silver through the air, she seemed too pure and beautiful for earth. Her tears were the very soul of sorrow, and none could resist their overwhelming influence,—her smiles were irresistibly enchanting,—her voice in conversation was full of entrancing melody,—her cavern dimples were the emblems of purity and charity, and her entire expression was divine. And as her blood warmed, and her bosom rose and fell, and her voice trembled and darted from the faintest whisper to its highest intonation, her glorious eyes reflected gorgeous temples in her soul, filled with sinless angels, breathing sweet music to millions of her species. And the beauteous Sontag told me, as we sat together in our last communion as human pilgrims, that her childhood, and girlhood, and early womanhood were all devoted to the cultivation of music for the enjoyment of the world more than herself, which rendered her early years an utter sacrifice, and had deprived her of the pastimes enjoyed by all her sex in the morning of life; that from the hour she was called “_The little Daughter of the Danube_,” there was no happiness for her; that she was early beset by lovers from nearly every nation of Europe; that kings and queens lavished their choicest treasures upon her; that princes besought her affections in tearful supplications; that all France prostrated herself at her feet; that amid the flattery and adulations of all classes and kingdoms, she was