The hat--a soft felt hat--capable of almost any expression. When he enters the Capitol in this harmless disguise the sensation would be indescribable if the attention was not divided by the roar of Kelley, he who has played the role of lion ever since his celebrated interview with Bismarck, which settled the bi-metallic squabble in both hemispheres. The editor of _The Times_ is notified that a column could be furnished concerning Charley O’Neill, the Quaker City’s favorite son, and the article would be as crisp and tender as young radishes in spring, but will it pay to build up a reputation that will last as long in the future as Don Quixote has in the past? Whilst _The Times_ is solving the important problem, the dainty and delicate Acklen shall be served up. Congressman Acklen, of Louisiana, is one of the youngest and handsomest “bachelors” in the House, and whilst attending strictly to his Congressional duties he has been fortunate enough to get mixed up in more “scrapes” in which women have a part than any half dozen members put together. Last winter he figured at Welcker’s in what might be termed a “celebrated case,” or would be if the bottom facts could be found. His partner in the melee was a beautiful golden-haired widow from New York. Telegrams flew all over the country; there was a suspension of the rules of the House. The principal witness, an army officer, who appeared to have conscientious scruples, fearing an “investigation,” escaped to Canada. The widow published a card in the papers, announcing that Congressman Acklen had “offered” to marry her, but she refused to be comforted in that way. This performance healed the young widow’s reputation. Mrs. Welcker published a card also, saying nothing of the kind ever occurred at her house. This saved the honor of the hotel. At the same time a kind of Chinese din was kept up, which proved that the army officer left suddenly to avoid “a debt of honor,” whilst the widow ran away to California and set the whole Russian fleet on fire, which happened to be temporarily stopping in the San Francisco harbor. In the meantime Congressman Acklen occupied his seat in the House, “the observed of all observers,” looking as innocent as a Thomas cat whose whiskers are scarcely bereft of the cream. He had all the sympathy of his brother members, because they felt certain he would learn their caution in time; but, sad to relate, he had hardly set foot in his beloved New Orleans before he tripped and fell into another “scandal.” It would consume too much of the valuable space of _The Times_ to record this part of his history, but it can all be found in any of the files of last year’s Louisiana papers. But he is here again, as clean and bright as ever, and to prove his restoration he has left the unhealthy moral atmosphere of the “West End” and rented a mansion on the pure heights of Capitol Hill, where every spot is hallowed by the virtuous Father of his Country. To be