On our trip up the river once we had on board a tall, gaunt-looking volunteer. His appearance not only indicated that he was lately from the hospital, but that it would perhaps have been better for him to have remained there still, for he certainly did not seem to be in a fit condition to travel. He was from Eastern Ohio, and by some strange whim of his comrades (soldiers have odd notions as to name), he had won the cognomen of "Beauregard." He was full of dry humour, and it had a peculiar zest, coming from such a dilapidated specimen of the human kind. I asked him: "How long were you in the hospital at ----?" "I stayed just five days; I couldn't stand it any longer." "Why so? Were you not well treated?" "Well, you see, when I went in there were six patients. The first day they buried one." "Well, what of that?" "Nothing--only the very next day they buried another." "They must have been severe cases, and made it very unpleasant for you." "Unpleasant! I knew my turn would come in time. I went in on Monday, and if I stayed I would be carried out on Saturday. So I made my calculation, and on Friday I packed my knapsack and went away. If I had not, I'd surely been buried on Saturday. Six days--one man each day--could't stand that." YOUR FARE, MISS.--404. The most veracious chroniclers of Chicago relate the experience of a young lady from the rural districts of Hoosierdom, who visited the Queen City of the West, accompanied by her particular swain, and took an appreciative view of the "elephant." Getting into one of the city cars for a ride, the maiden took a seat, while the lover planted himself on the platform. The graceful vehicle had sped but a few short blocks, when the beneficent young conductor insinuated himself into the popular chariot, for the purpose of collecting expenses. Approaching the rustic maiden, he said, affably, "Your fare, miss." The Hoosier rosebud allowed a delicate pink to manifest itself on her cheeks, and looked down in soft confusion. The justly popular conductor was rather astonished at this, and ventured to remark once more--"Your fare, miss." This time the pink deepened to carnation, and the maiden fingered her parasol with pretty coquettishness. The conductor really didn't know what to make of this sort of thing, and began to look a little foolish; but as a small boy at the other end of the car began to show signs of a disposition to leave without paying for his ride, the official managed to say once more--"Hem! miss, your fare." In a moment those lovely violet eyes were looking up into his face, through an aurora of blushes, and the rosy lips exclaimed--"Well, they dew say I am good-looking at hum, but I don't see why you want to say it out loud!" It was not a peal of thunder that shook the car just then. Oh, no. It was something that commenced in a general passengerical titter, and culminating in such a shattering guffaw as Western lungs alone are capable of. In the