A newspaper item tells about a horse in Chicago that chews tobacco.
Well, we can beat that in New York. Only a few days ago we saw Commodore
VANDERBILT driving one of his fast teams in Harlem Lane, and both the
horses were Smoking like mad.
But the item adds that the Chicago horse actually picks the hostler's
pocket of tobacco.
Well, that is just what one might expect of a Chicago horse.
* * * * *
THE WATERING PLACES.
PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS.
After, all there is nothing like nature, in her primevality. When man
attempts to add a finishing-touch to the loveliness of the forest, lake,
or ocean, he makes a botch of it. What would the glowing tropics be, if
Park Commissioners had charge of them? The heart, sick of the giddy
flutterings of Man, seeks the sympathy of the shadowy dell, where the
jingle of coin is heard not, and where the votaries of fashion flaunt
not their vain tissues in the ambient air.
So, last week, thought Mr.
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