regarding their travels, not so harmonious; in another were banqueting three “colored pussons” discussing whether Bob Berry was not a greater oarsman than Hanlan. The only regret experienced by the onlooker was that he could not sprinkle the “coons” among the other feasters and thus render the melange complete. In another room a couple of gentlemen were seated who had been seen on more than one occasion in the police court explaining how it was that they came to be in a room where a faro lay-out was also found. These gentry were faring high, as the bottled beer beside them showed. Dame Fortune had probably smiled on them and now they were “smiling” back at her. Oysters are very well in season, but the standard, substantial and favorite dish at the all-night eating house is the platter of pork and beans. To the hungry gentleman, who has probably missed his six o’clock meal, this dish is a reviver of a distinctly perceptible kind. That man whom you saw skip out just now came in with a weary step, but you now see the result of his mess of lentils and swine flesh. He steps out as briskly as a young giant refreshed with wine. One of the most interesting characters I met with during these visits was a shabby genteel party, who came in about one in the morning and occupied a seat at the table at which I sat. I purposely delayed my meal to observe this specimen. The way in which he chose and ordered his viands from the rather limited bill of fare, showed an acquaintance of an earlier day with Jewell & Clow, or some other swell restaurant. His garments were a study. They were beautifully preserved, and really looked much younger than their years. His collar, tie and cuffs were not, as some lesser humorist has remarked before, PRIMA FACIE EVIDENCE OF A SHIRT. A ring on his little finger would probably have brought five cents at a second-hand dealers, but it was chosen with such taste that it might well pass for “a ring, sir, that my father secured among the loot taken at the fall of Delhi.” A piece of black ribbon was twisted in one of the button-holes of his vest, but an unfortunate accident with his fork flipped out the door-key that was attached to the other end of it. “That’s rather a novel thing, sir,” he said to me. “Yes,” I said, somewhat vaguely, thinking that he alluded to the deception involved.