Though so often trampled down by the heel of patriotism, the old serpent of treason and disunion still keeps lifting his head and hissing venomously. In New-York, Fernando Wood--that incarnation of Northern secession--the man who dared to issue a proclamation recommending the inhabitants of the city of which he was mayor to go off with the South, is plotting and planning (unpunished, of course) with spirits of kindred baseness, to build up the old order and reestablish the rule of corruption. At Washington, all the timid, time-serving, and place-hoping members of Congress have been holding 'Conservative' meetings, at which the most insolent or timid propositions have been put forth; some of the traitors manifesting clear as day their undisguised sympathy for the rebels, others speaking only to preserve their tattered characters as Unionists. The upshot of all was given in a resolution that Congress has no power to deprive a person of his property, unless that person has been duly convicted by a trial by jury. We are not through the war as yet. Possibly, ere the end come, the country may have something to say as to the propriety of our representatives holding meetings to protect and favor rebels in their 'rights.' WHAT'S in a name? There was a great puzzle once in _one_ name, as appeareth from the following: DEAR SIR: In a certain village not unknown to you, dwelleth one Alwright. It is a good thing to have a good name. His, you observe, is 'petter as goot.' Not long ago, A. went to an auction and bought things. 'What name, sir?' inquired the man with the hammer. 'Alwright.' 'What NAME, I say?' was the irritated reply. 'ALWRIGHT, I say.' 'All wrong, you mean. 'Spect you'll make it all right in the morning, hey?' 'AL-WRIGHT!' cried the purchaser. 'Yes, all right!' cried the crowd, taking the joke. 'All right-go ahead, old knock 'em down.' The auctioneer began to be profane. 'A-L, Al,' began Alwright. 'Hold your tongue! Go----' continued the auctioneer. 'A-L Al, W-R-I-G-H-T wright,' continued the buyer. 'O--h, thunder!' exclaimed Hammer, on whom the laughter of the mob began to operate. 'That's it, is it! Beg pardon. James, put this gentleman's name down. All right, sir. Go ahead. Gentlemen, allow me to call your attention to this fine lot of leather. Did I hear twenty-five?--five--five--five--an' an' a ha'f, an' a ha'f, an' a ha'f--gone!' Yours truly, CONSTANT READER. There is often some fun at auctions. One of the queerest ever reported to us was held in a French-Spanish be-Germanized village on the frontier, where business was transacted in something of a polyglott manner, as follows: