Sepoys--sea-thieves-- C. Bonds--see slaves-- See seizures made in every kind of way; See debts sequestrated-- Sea-island frustrated; Segars--seditionists--and C. S. A., Seduced from honor bright-- Secluded from serenest Wisdom's light-- Sea-pent by ships of war-- Selected planters for the world no more; Severely snubbed by all-- Secure to fall; Sedately left alone by all who see Seed poisonous sown in sectional retrogression; See-saw diplomacy, sedition foui _per se_; Sequel--that serio-comic scene-- SECESSION! Speaking of poetry; I attended the meeting of the Cosmopolitan Club on Monday night, and was much electrified by the treasures of British literature unfolded by Smith-Brown. That double-chinned chap brought to view a roll of manuscript, and says he: "Instead of reading a story for your entertainment, gentlemen, I propose to make you acquainted with the war-sentiments of a few of Albion's poet's, as expressed in certain unpublished verses of theirs which have privately come into my possession. "First, let me commend to your attention some amiable rhymes by a bard who knows more about this blarsted country than it knows about hitself": A MISTAKE BY HEAVEN! _By Dr. Charles Mack--y._ In Heaven's Chancery the Records stand Of men and deeds in each and ev'ry land, And as new rulers rise, or empires fall, Appointed angels make a note of all. To mark the changes in this world of late There came a Spirit from the Throne of Fate, Instructed closely, to be sure and see Who earth's chief rulers for _this_ year might be. His task accomplished, back the Spirit flew To Heaven's Chancery, as bade to do, And from his vestments took the mystic scroll That named each potentate, from Pole to Pole. Recording Angels glanced it sharply o'er, To note each change from what the Records bore; But found no nations changing potentates Until they came to the United States. "Another President!" the angels sighed, "Another President!" the Fates replied; And straight a pen the Chief Recorder took To write the ruler's name within his book. He wrote--(alas! 'twill hardly be believed The very angels could be so deceived)-- He wrote the name that all his sprites might read-- Not Abr'am Lincoln; no! but--THURLOW WEED. !! # # # !! # # # !! If foreign nations fail to judge your cause In strict accordance with set Christian laws, It is no proof of their intending crimes, Since angels, even, make mistakes at times! We were all silent after that, my boy, and says the old British chap: "The next manuscript expresses the conservative sentiment of Britain's Isle, the measure being peculiar and the manner inquiring. Hattention!-- THE WAR. BY SIDNEY DOBELL. I.