Arriving in the Empire City, Mr. Browne soon opened an engagement with "Vanity Fair," a humorous paper after the manner of London "Punch," and ere long he succeeded Mr. Charles G. Leland as editor.  Mr. Charles Dawson Shanly says: "After Artemus Ward became sole editor, a position which he held for a brief period, many of his best contributions were given to the public; and, whatever there was of merit in the columns of "Vanity Fair" from the time he assumed the editorial charge, emanated from his pen."  Mr. Browne himself wrote to a friend: "Comic copy is what they wanted for "Vanity Fair."  I wrote some and it killed it. The poor paper got to be a conundrum, and so I gave it up." The idea of entering the field as a lecturer now seized Mr. Browne stronger than ever.  Tired of the pen, he resolved on trying the platform.  His Bohemian friends agreed that his fame and fortune would be made before intelligent audiences.  He resolved to try it.  What should be the subject of my lecture?  How shall I treat the subject?  These questions caused Mr. Browne grave speculations.  Among other schemes, he thought of a string of jests combined with a stream of satire, the whole being unconnected--a burlesque upon a lecture.  The subject,--that was a hard question.  First he thought of calling it "My Seven Grandmothers," but he finally adopted the name of "Babes in the Woods," and with this subject Charles Browne was introduced to a metropolitan audience, on the evening of December 23d, 1861.  The place was Clinton Hall, which stood on the site of the old Astor Place Opera House, where years ago occurred the Macready riot, and where now is the Mercantile Library.  Previous to this introduction, Mr. Frank Wood accompanied him to the suburban town of Norwich, Connecticut, where he first delivered his lecture, and watched the result.  The audience was delighted, and Mr. Browne received an ovation. Previous to his Clinton Hall appearance the city was flooded with funny placards reading-- Owing to a great storm, only a small audience braved the elements, and the Clinton Hall lecture was not a financial success.  It consisted of a wandering batch of comicalities, touching upon everything except "The Babes."  Indeed it was better described by the lecturer in London, when he said, "One of the features of my entertainment is, that it contains so many things that don't have anything to do with it." In the middle of his lecture, the speaker would hesitate, stop, and say: "Owing to a slight indisposition we will now have an intermission of fifteen minutes."  The audience looked in utter dismay at the idea of staring at vacancy for a quarter of an hour, when, rubbing his hands, the lecturer would continue: "but, ah--during the intermission I will go on with my lecture!"