"Wall," says our migratory Yankee, who followed the crowd into the house, "I guess I know what yeou be at, guv'ner, but I'll tell yeou naow, yeou can't begin to keep that darn'd hard stuff burning, 'less yeou fix it up in a grate, like, gin it air, and an almighty draught; yeou see, guv'ner, I've been making experiments a darn'd long while with it!" The laugh of the governor's friends subsided as the pedler went into a practical theory on burning stone coal; the _respite_ was signed--hospitalities of the mansion extended to all present, and in course of a few days, our Yankee and the governor rigged up a grate, and soon settled the question--will our black rocks burn? Sure Cure. Travel is a good invention to cure the blues and condense worldly effects. When Cutaway went to California, "I carried," said he, "a pile of despondency, and more baggage, boots, and boxes, than would fit out a caravan. After an absence of just fourteen calendar months, I started homewards, and was so boiling over with hope and fond anticipation, that I could hardly keep in my old boots! And all the _dunnage_ I had left, wouldn't fill a pocket-handkerchief, or sell to a paper-maker for four cents!" Cutaway recommends seeing the _worldy_ elephant, high, for settling one's mind, and scattering goods, gold, and chattels. Chasing a Fugitive Subscriber. Printers, from time immemorial--back possibly to the days of Faust--have suffered martyrdom, more or less, at the hands of the people who didn't pay! Many of the long-established newspaper concerns can show a "black list" as long as the militia law, and an unpaid _cash account_ bulky enough to take Cuba! Country publishers suffer in this way intensely. About one half of the "subscribers" to the _Clarion of Freedom_, or the _Universal Democrat_, or the _Whig Shot Tower_, seem to labor under the Utopian notion that printers were made to mourn over unpaid subscription lists; or that they "got up" papers for their own peculiar amusement, and carried them or sent them to the doors of the public for mere pastime! Every publisher, of about every paper we ever examined, about this time of year, has told his own story--requested his subscribers to come forward--pay over--help to keep the mill going--creditors easy--fire in the stove--meal in the barrel--children in bread, butter and shoes--Sheriff at bay, and other tragical affairs connected with the operations attendant upon unsettled cash accounts! But, how many heed such "notices?" Paying subscribers do not read them--such applications do not apply to them--_they_ regret to see them in the paper, and, like honest, common-sensed people, don't probe or meddle with other people's shortcomings. The delinquent subscriber don't read such _calls_ upon his humanity--they are distasteful to him; he may squint and grin over the _notice_ to pay up, and chuckles to himself--"Ah, umph! dun away, old feller; I ain't one o' that kind that sends money by mail; it might be