Winning, witty, wicked, and wise, A _je ne sais quoi_ about thee lies, Charming the cold, cheering the sad, Giving gaiety to the glad; Brilliant, brave, bewitchingly bright, Playful, pranksome, proudly polite; Softly sarcastic, shyly severe, Falsely frank, which fascinates fear! Not handsome--no hero 'half divine,' Features not faultless, fair, and fine; With raven locks, O! 'Rufus the Red,' I can't in conscience cover thy head; Nor shall I stoop to falsehood mean, And swear thine eyes are not sea-green: Discard deceit in thy defence, Secure in wit--a man of sense, So gracefully kind in look and tone, I think his thoughts are all my own! Ah! false as fickle--well I know To scorn the words that charm me so. Still do I catch the golden bait, Admiring--where I thought to hate! '_Bien-c'est gentil, ca!_' as Jullien used to say at the concerts of his own performers. Still do we opine that 'Rufus' has been well hit off, and should be grateful for his place among those to come. * * * * * Yet another correspondent. This one discourseth of the little ones: GLENDALE, Wis., _Sept. 16th, 1862_. DEAR CONTINENTAL: We rejoice, most of the time, in a house pet, a human puppet, a domestic toy, in the shape of 'DONNY.' Would you ever believe that that name had been originally CHARLES, and passed, by the subtle alchemy of nicknames, to its present form? DONNY lately donned for the first time his first suit of jacket and trousers. No one was in the house save the half-blind nurse who put them on. And poor DONNY wished so much to be admired! 'All dressed up and nobody to see.' An idea struck him. He 'paddled off' for the hennery. I was behind the bushes and noted him. Walking in a great state before a party of hens, he cried aloud: 'LOOK AT ME, CHICKENS!' I should possibly have forgotten this domestic legend, but that it was recalled yesterday by the fact that our Cousin JOE made a good application of it. There is a very well-educated and very able young theological friend of ours, who has this one weakness--when he has read a book, or taken in a new idea of any kind, he can get no rest until he has fully reproduced it in a 'bold-face, full-display, double-lead' sort of manner to somebody else. Show it off he must, and exhibit himself at the same time. His last acquisition was a mass of entomology--he having had by some means access to a copy of 'Harris on Insects Injurious to Vegetation; and this he reproduced liberally, during an entire evening, to half a dozen undeveloped intellects of tender age. How the words came out--how he _did_ give them the Latin! 'What did you think of him?' I inquired of JOE. 'LOOK AT ME, CHICKENS!' was the reply. I saw the point--wonder if I shan't see its application frequently ere I have 'wound up my worsted,' and shovelled up the mortal coal of this life.