'JOHN SANDERSON was a man of genius, a man of talent, a man of feeling. He was a Philadelphian, and by his life and writings he added to the good reputation of his country. To natural abilities of a high order, he added a calm, chaste scholarship, an intimate knowledge of mankind, a singularly amiable disposition, and a frank and high-bred courtesy. His departure is lamented not alone by those who enjoyed his society and his friendship; he is mourned by our republic of letters; America as well as our city, has lost one of her most accomplished sons. Mr. SANDERSON has long been known as a writer. His first publication was the collection of Memoirs of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence, in nine octavo volumes; a work embracing a vast amount of original and authentic information; and his last, excepting contributions to the literary journals, was '_The American in Paris_.' He was a man of most excellent humor, blending happily the characteristics of RABALAIS and STERNE and LAMB. When with his chosen associates, we doubt whether even COLERIDGE was more entertaining or instructive. Turn to his Parisian letters and see the union of wit and humor, of playful satire and nice observation which pervade them. Examine all the pleasant books of travel of which this age has been so prolific, and answer whether they have been surpassed. 'You know SANDERSON,' we said a few weeks since to a French Deputy who was travelling here. 'Know JOHN SANDERSON? I derived from him my knowledge of Paris.' 'But you are a Parisian?' '_Je ne sache pas qu'il y ait eu un Francais qui ait plus connu Paris et son monde._' In that home of the gay, the brilliant and the profound, of all that in life or art attracts the man of genius, or learning, or taste, Mr. SANDERSON was the favored guest of the most celebrated savans and wits, many of whom since his return to the United States, have waited anxiously for his restoration to their circles. And he himself looked forward with happy anticipations to the renewal of his old friendships. In a few months he was to reoeccupy his apartments in the Rue Rivoli. 'There,' he said to the writer of these recollections but a week ago, 'there with congenial spirits I shall spend the residue of my days.' How much those friends will sorrow when they learn that JOHN SANDERSON is no more!