away from temptations of all kinds he has taken an aged widow for housekeeper, with her two beautiful grown daughters, just to keep the sex in mind. In this way he puts down scandal, and he is never seen going to his own house except at the proper hours of the day. Just as the banana and the orange, by their lusciousness, show their tropical origin, Congressman Acklen proves by his appearance that he is the “Son of the Sunny South.” Hardly beyond the middle size, beautifully moulded, with raven hair and scarlet lips, he impresses the beholder with his curious intensity and concentration, just as the diamond flashes out its liquid fire; but he is a real “lady-killer” in the longest, broadest, deepest sense of the word, and he is only 30 years old, and refuses to be sobered by the holy bands of wedlock; but the edge of his wickedness is being borne away by the attrition of national notoriety and the fast-increasing fastidiousness of his own taste, and yet his reputation rather endears him than otherwise to fashionable “society.” Pennsylvania has more bachelors in the House than its proper quota as compared to other States; but this may be the harmless way which the “Old Keystone” takes to get rid of her extra rubbish. Hiester Clymer is here, apparently cold, hard, and indestructible as Allegheny granite, and he strikes those with whom he is brought in contact by the same feeling awakened at the touch of rugged sublimity. The grandeur of the mountain! The solemnity of the sea! Who would dare to laugh and jest in his presence? The writer has been informed by some of his brother members that he has a remarkably sweet and winning manner to the few privileged to occupy the chambers of his soul; and we should remember the rough, brown husk of the nut is no indication of the kernel. High-toned and kingly in manner on the floor, always the right word in the right place. For nearly if not quite a dozen years, for we write from memory only, his stalwart form has been a landmark in the Pennsylvania delegation, or a sort of Democratic wharf against which the spray and foam of the Republican ocean has madly dashed in vain. In reputation, so far as women are concerned, his character is the reverse of Congressman Acklen; but suppose he had been contrived on a sugar plantation, done up in a creole skin, forged, as it were, under the very eyelids of the tropics? What then? Shouldn’t Pennsylvania get down on her stony old knees and thank heaven that her Congressmen are not made like Southern men?