The _Boston Herald_ has the following infallible recipe:--"To make pie: Play at blind man's buff in a printing-office. To have music at dinner: Tell your wife she is not so handsome as the lady who lives over the way. To save butter: Make it so salt that nobody can eat it." TALL RELATIONS.--132. The wit deservedly won his bet who, in a company when every one was bragging of his tall relations, wagered that he himself had a brother twelve feet high. He had, he said, "two half-brothers, each measuring six feet." WE WONDER, TOO.--133. A little boy once said to his aunt, "Aunty, I should think that Satan must be an awful trouble to God." "He must be troubled enough, indeed, I should think," she answered. "I don't see how he came to turn out so, when there _was no devil to put him up to it_." INFLAMMABLE AND DANGEROUS.--134. Judge Beeler put a notice over his factory-gate at Lowell: "No cigars or Irishmen admitted within these walls; for," says he, "the one will set a flame agoin' among my cotton, and t'other among my gals. I won't have no such inflammable and dangerous things about me on no account." A RARE PRINTER.--135. A western paper contains the following advertisement:--"Wants a situation, a practical printer, who is competent to take charge of any department in a printing and publishing house. Would accept a professorship in any of the academies. Has no objection to teach ornamental painting and penmanship, geometry, trigonometry, and many other sciences. Is particularly suited to act as pastor to a small Evangelical church, or as a local preacher. He would have no objection to form a small but select class of interesting young ladies, to instruct in the highest branches. To a dentist or chiropodist he would be invaluable, as he can do almost anything. Would board with a family, if decidedly pious." SOMETHING LIKE A GOOD SHOT.--136. Two passengers coming down the Mississippi in a steamboat were amusing themselves with shooting birds on the shore from the deck. Some sporting conversation ensued; one remarked that he would turn his back to no man in killing racoons--that he had repeatedly shot fifty a day. "What o' that?" said a Kentuckian; "I make nothing of killing a hundred 'coon a day, or'nary luck." "Do you know Captain Scott, of our State?" asked a Tennessean bystander; "he, now, is something like a shot. A hundred 'coon! why he never points at one without hitting him. He never misses, and the 'coons know it. T'other day he levelled at an old 'un, in a high tree; the varmint looked at him a minute, and then bawled out, 'Hallo, Cap'n Scott, is that you?' 'Yes,' was the reply. 'Well, pray don't shoot, I'll come down to you--I'll give in--I'm dead beat.'" ABSENCE OF MIND.--137.