HE WHO RUNS MAY READ.
 A LIVE red Indian-a species of Transatlantic scarlet-runner-is in England, beating all our
native pedestrians into fits. On his first appearance a spectator observed: Here's a pod
trying' to beat us English. I suppose now we shall see some ped-anter trick or other." He is of
the tribe of the Senecas, or we might almost say Senna-cas, such a strong dose has he proved
to many of his opponents; while, from the money they have lost, he has received the name of
DEARFOOT. Being used to the woods, he can of course cut along without being ax-hausted; his
pace is that of an accommodation bill or a runaway engine.
 Last week this child of the forest ran a twelve-mile race at Dublin, when he succeeded in
doubling his previous reputation. Like an Arctic traveller, he quickly got over the laps. His
opponents were two men named MILLS and LEVITT. Without indulging in unnecessary Icvit-y,
LEVITT soon lev-it clear to every person that he could not win, having lost his wind. MILLS,
however, like CUPID, though very little, proved uncommonly strong, and ran till the eleventh
mile,-a clear proof of his naturally wide-awake disposition, as he was unable to run a doze-in,
and the Indian won. After the race he bore a great resemblance to a pant-her, and it was
remarked that he was suffering from that complaint that has proved fatal in so many cases-
want of breath. It is reported that he is as much at home in the water as on dry land, and
when in that element his affairs go on swimmingly. Although not possessed of much floating
capital, yet he is a capital floater, thoroughly understanding how to keep his head above water.
In spite of his victories, we bear this conquering savage no malice, and sincerely hope he may
never be called upon to outrun the constable, and discover the difference between goal and
gaol.

 MAKE THE BEST USE OF IT, THEN.-Beginning a new ten years of life is like changing half a
 sovereign: the silver soon goes.-The Bachelor of Forty.


A POEM ON TIlE llNT "-TERROGA-
 TIVE SYSTEM.
 Br oiUR POET or PROGRESS.
 WVi ..-.' ... 1 1., .. .king questions,
 S ..., i ...' *.i .d sages say,
 Lit. .I, i.. i ti .- suggestions,
 Teach us how to ask our way.
 If inquiring where responses,
 You will get in point or pun,
 Want to know what's sure to answer,
 In a word we tell you-Fux.
 Who shall map the mind's dominion,
 Fix for all the mental line ?
 You, of course, have your opinion,
 So you should have- I have mine ;
 Yet some things we all agree on,
 Let .. .i.. ..... the subject run,
 Only I 1,,.L i .. or threo on,
 Which are regularly done.
 Of the nation's welfare heedful,
 If our party does what's right,
 Is it for the other needful,
 All it does to thwart and blight ?
 Is the only way to prosper,
 Down the other set to run ?
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 Both don't think it,-but it's done.
 Are those wordy, windy leaders,
 Which some papers put in print,
 Ever read by any readers,
 Getting thence a, useful hint ?
 Does that politician tremble,
 For whom that web of words was spun?
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 He don't think it,-yet it's done.
 Villains in transpontine dramimer,"
 Always when they take the stage,
 Heads and hands ,. I1.. hanuner,
 Nailing victims I. I .. .. rage.
 B u t 1 .. .. .... 1 .1. .. ,
 M u I .,.' ,, 1,1.:.,, r... .....
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 No one thinks it,-yet it's done.
 In that wondrous world dramatic,
 When the comic man: appears,
 Must his wink be so emphatic,
 Just as it has been for years ?
 Should we get, if true to nature,
 Out of winks and wigs our tim ?
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 No one thinks it,-yet it's done.
 Supping with the Sons of Folly,"
 Songs and health in turn prevail,
 Voices shriek for lie's a jolly,"
 Blended in a, chorus stale;
 Does that make us more convivial,
 More good fellows every one ?
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 No one thinks it,-yet it's done.
 You and I meet friends I.. ,
 After how dy'e do is said,
 Isn't then tho sort of weather,
 Subject of discussion 11lnde ?
 Do we want the information,
 How the present day begun ?
 I don't think so, you don't think so,
 Neither think so,-yet it's done.
 What an odd world this we live in,
 Thought that often has occurred,
 Iow to all its ways we give in,
 C-ii .. know are most absurd.
 Bui .1 ask what inmprovemont,
 ri ,, ,11 bring, 1 answer none,
 I don't think it, you don't think it,
 No one thinks it,-so I've done.



 EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT ON TlHE EASTERN
CouNTIEs LINE.-The Norwich train, which
was advertised, a few days ago, to reach London
at a certain hour, actually did so !