The _Salem Register_ tells this good story. Daniel Webster was once standing in company with several other gentlemen in the Capitol at Washington, as a drove of mules were going past. "Webster," said one of the Southern gentlemen, "there go some of your constituents." "Yes," instantly replied Mr. Webster, "they are going South to teach school." THANKS TO HIS HENS.--611. A man in Missouri planted some beans late one afternoon, and next morning they were _up_--thanks to his hens. CONFIDENCE NECESSARY.--612. The _Boston Post_ says--"All that is necessary for the enjoyment of sausages is _confidence_." PAINFUL NECESSITY.--613. During the long drought of last summer, an American paper says, water became so scarce in a certain parish that the farmers' wives were obliged to send their milk to town genuine. ANSWERED AT ONCE.--614. An American clergyman, preaching a drowsy sermon, asked, "What is the price of earthly pleasure?" The deacon, a fat grocer, woke up hastily from a sound sleep, and cried out lustily, "Seven and sixpence a dozen." MORE COPY.--615. Once in autumn, wet and dreary, sat this writer, weak and weary, pondering over a memorandum book of items used before--book of scrawling head notes, rather; items taking days to gather them in hot and sultry weather, using up much time and leather, pondered we those times o'er. While we conned them, slowly rocking (through our mind queer ideas flocking) came a quick and nervous knocking--knocking at our sanctum door. "Sure, that must be Jinks," we muttered--"Jinks that's knocking at our door; Jinks, the everlasting bore." Ah, well do we remind us, in the walls which then confined us, the "exchanges," lay behind us, and before us, and around us, all scattered o'er the floor. Thought we, "Jinks wants to borrow some papers till to-morrow, and 'twill be relief from sorrow to get rid of Jinks the bore, by opening wide the door." Still the visitor kept knocking--knocking louder than before. And the scattered piles of papers, cut some rather curious capers, being lifted by the breezes coming through another door; and we wished (the wish was evil, for one deemed always civil) that Jinks was to the d----l, to stay there evermore; there to find his level--Jinks the nerve-unstringing bore. Bracing up our patience firmer, then, without another murmur, "Mr. Jinks," said we, "your pardon, your forgiveness we implore. But the fact is, we were reading of some curious proceeding, and thus it was, unheeding your loud knocking there before." Here we opened wide the door. But phancy now our pheelins--for it wasn't Jinks the bore--Jinks, nameless, evermore! But the form that stood before us, caused a trembling to come o'er us, and memory quickly bore us back again to days of yore--days when items were in plenty, and where'er this writer went he picked up interesting items by the score. 'Twas the form of our "devil," in an attitude uncivil; and he thrust his head within the open door, with