"Lately a planter chanced to pop His head into a barber's shop-- Begged to be shaved; it soon was done, When Strap (inclined oft-times to fun,) Doubling the price he'd asked before, Instead of two pence made it four. The planter said, 'You sure must grant, Your charge is most exhorbitant.' 'Not so,' quoth Strap, 'I'm right and you are wrong, For since tobacco fell, your face is twice as long.'" Another quaint whim in the form of an advertisement for a lost meerschaum is from an Australian paper: "To Honest men and others,--Driving from Hale Town to Bridgetown, on Sunday, last, the advertiser lost a cigar holder with the face of a pretty girl on it. The intrinsic value of the missing article is small, but as the owner has been for the last few months converting the young lady from a blonde into a brunette, he would be glad to get it back again. If it was picked up by a gentleman, on reading this notice, he will, of course, send it to the address below. If it was picked up by a poor man, who could get a few shillings by selling it, on his bringing it to the address below, he shall be paid the full amount of its intrinsic value. If it was picked up by a thief, let him deliver it, and he shall be paid a like amount, and thus for once can do an honest action, without being a penny the worse for it." A humorous writer thus discourses on man, who he denominates as "common clays": "Yet we are all common clays! There are long clays and short clays, coarse clays and refined clays, and the latter are pretty scarce, that's a fact. To follow out the simile, life is the tobacco with which we are loaded, and when the vital spark is applied we live; when that tobacco is exhausted we die, the essence of our life ascending from the lukewarm clay when the last fibre burns out, as a curl of smoke from the ashes in the bowl of the pipe, and mingling with the perfumed breeze of heaven, or the hot breath of--well, never mind; we hope not. Then the clay is cold, and glows no more from the fire within; the pipe is broken, and ceases to comfort and console. We say, 'A friend has left us,' or 'Poor old Joe; his pipe is out.' We have all a certain supply of life, or, if we would pursue the comparison, a share of tobacco. Some young men smoke too rapidly, even voraciously, and thus exhaust their share before their proper time,--then we say they have 'lived too fast,' or 'pulled at their pipes too hard.' Others, on the contrary, make their limited supply go a long way, and when they are taking their last puffs of life's perfumed plant their energy is unimpaired; they can run a race, walk a mile with any one, and show few wrinkles upon their brow. [Illustration: The artist.]