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Since the enactment, by our City Council, of the ordinance prohibiting the sale of liquor, on Sunday, several of the b'hoys, old and young, have been in the habit, in the place of attending church, of taking a pleasure trip on the ferry boat, to the head of the Sny, and making themselves generally useful, in helping to wood, &c., in consideration of the privilege of taking a jug of the creeter along. On last Sunday, some person added a little tartar to the contents of the jug, and the way it produced symptoms of cholera, cramp cholic, &c., was a caution. The first feelings were a little grumbling at the stomach, and the boys would take a little more to settle it, and soon it would need still a little more to settle, until, finally, the Captain, finding he was about to lose crew and passengers, as a means of saving them, threw the jug overboard; but the consequence did not ceaseⒶemendation here—they presented a picture of a vessel going to sea with a crowd of landsmenⒶemendation on board, all laboring with sea-sickness at once, and between the groans of the suffering could be heard threatenings loud and deep against their self-appointed doctor, could they find him. One of the party thought it was all up with him; declared he never had such an attack of cramp cholicⒶemendation before in his life; sent for two physicians, and finally prepared to give up the ghost. Another made an onslaught on a pile of raw potatoes, as a means of settling his stomach, but he could not get over one potatoe down before 'twould come roaring back again, with a sound like some one hallooing “New York!” “New York!”

Now, we think that if this is the effect of stringent temperance laws; if the health, comfort and happiness of free people are to be obstructed, and their rights trampled upon in this manner, then I [begin page 377] say, for one, that this is no longer a free country; and that our constitution is abused, and we had best not have any at all!Ⓐemendation

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It commenced raining about sunrise this morning—cold, drizzly, uncomfortable rain. People in the slashy streets looked sour, drew their over-coats tightly about them, and stubbornly refused to move their umbrellas a single inch out of the way of the heads of passers-by. This did not promise well for the Fair. However, my friend and I ventured down to Fourth street, when we were caught up by the 9 o'clock tide of humanity, and borne to the Planters' House, where we smoked a cigar, read the morning papers, and heard the people “d—n the weather.” Having gained a large amount of useful knowledge from the two sole topics discussed in said morning papers, viz: the correspondence between Botts and Pryor, and the fact that the Messrs. Arnot had generously fitted up a portion of their fine new building in [begin page 379] Chestnut street, for the accommodation of five hundred strangers, we waded up to Olive street, where several huge omnibuses arrived five minutes later, with “For the Fair,” displayed in great capitals on the sides thereof. It was one thing to see the omnibuses, but an entirely separate and distinct thing to get in one. About a hundred men stormed vehicle No. 1. A big man with a blue cotton umbrella, led the attack. The assault was successful. A good many got in, and of course a good many didn't. I formed a part of the latter respectable majority. I think if I had got in, I would have carried about twenty with me, for I am certain there were that many hanging to my coat tail. Amid cries of “Form a line!” “One at a time!” “Put that man out!” &c.,Ⓐemendation omnibus No. 2 was attacked, and this time myself and friend were successful, and away we flew down Franklin Avenue, at the rate of fourteen miles in fifteen hours.

Arrived at the Fair grounds. Saw an immense number of knick-knack stalls lining Grand Avenue for a quarter of a mile or more.

But we went there to see the Fair, and were not to be seduced by such luxuries as hump-backed horses and Georgia Bays, so we paid our quarters and marched in at the grand entrance. Here was a sight. Fifty acres of grass, with ten acres of men and women—pants rolled up and dresses elevated—going with a hop, step and jump over it, and sprinkled by fifty acres of fourth-quality rain every half-second. The second story of this plat was formed of umbrellas, and the third was the great amphitheatreⒶemendation. On the left was the pretty cottage for the ladies, with fountains near it; on the right was the repository of the fineⒶemendation arts. Still further to the right was the building for furniture, stovesⒶemendation, &c.; in the rear a steam bakery. Still further to the right was Wm. M. Plant's ware-house of agricultural implements. Behind the amphitheatre was the building containing steam machinery, driven by a locomotive engine; near it were others, devoted to sewing machines, carriages, &c.; and all around the vast inclosure were stalls for the various kinds of stock.

Surrounding the base of the amphitheatre are eighty-six eating and drinking stalls. InⒶemendation the centre of the huge building was a clear, open arena, of perhaps 250 feet in diameter, with tall Pagoda for judges and musicians in the middle—the stars and stripes wavingⒶemendation from the summit. All around the arena, and slanting up from it, were the fifteen tiers of seats, with a promenade at the top. The National Guards, with [begin page 380] their red coats and immense muff-like hats, entered the arena and went through various military evolutions, which were exceedingly ‘small potatoes,’ compared with what I have seen the Keokuk Guards do. They were joined by the Washington Guards—a fine looking set of men, and well drilled—and finally, by the St. Louis Grays, who have always been the pets of St. Louis. The military proceedings wound up with a grand review, on a small scale, of the united companies. It seemed to me that the Washington Guards showed the most complete drilling, and deserved far more credit than the other soldiers, though they received the least applause. For the sake of their reputation, the Grays should have stayed at home—for they were very ungraceful, and went through with their manœuvres very awkwardly. The military did not come into the amphitheatre.

Next was the exhibition of match horses, I think. There were about six or eight buggies—two horses hitched to each buggy. They came in one by one, and followed each other slowly around the circle. One young fellow, in a jockey cap, behind two noble iron greys, attracted particular attention, by his excellent driving. Soon the horses broke into a gentle trot—faster, faster,—and the beautiful cavalcade sailed around the circle—the iron grays turned out and passed the big sorrels under headway, with a cheer from the multitude—the sorrel man whips up his team—faster, faster, good!—look to your laurel, iron gray,—he nears him—half the buggies turn now, and start around in the opposite direction, and in a moment they were meeting each other at lightning speed, in every quarter—in the melee, ‘sorrel’ gets ahead—another cheer—‘iron gray’ whips up—hurrah! he gains on his opponent—‘go it iron gray!’Ⓐemendation and the lash falls keen and fast—the multitude rise to their feet—good! good! hurrah for ‘iron gray!’—another furious lash—he's even with him—and a yell burst from those fifteen thousand throats, that shook the building to its foundations. But stop! The noise has frightened the horses out of their senses, and woe to the manⒶemendation that stands before them now—they dart in wild dismay in every direction, and the swaying, speechless crowd stands appalled. At the moment of victory, ‘iron gray’ comesⒶemendation in collision with a passing buggy, a crash ensues, and one hind wheel goes spinning to the middle of the circle, and the balance of the vehicle drags the ground. But ‘iron gray’ is pluck, he sticks to the remnant of the seat, ten yards further—another collision—and ‘iron gray's’Ⓐemendation buggy [begin page 381] is ground to pieces beneath hoofs and wheels, and himself trodden under foot—a groan went up from the crowd who stood there, bent forward and straining their eyes to catch a glimpseⒶemendation of the dead man—one moment of suspense, and then, full of life, but his clothes torn to shreds, the man stood before them uninjured, and his ears were greeted with a deafening shout. Order was finally restored, and trial commenced again. ‘Iron gray’ hitched his horses to another buggy, and soon joined the competitors, welcomed to the ring with another storm of applause. ThereⒶemendation were no more accidents, and fun was now the order of the day. A negro driving one of the buggies did not keep up very well. Somebody yelled out, ‘Hello, Fremont, you're behind time!’ The people took it up, and the poor devil was assailed with ‘go it Fremont!’ from every side—and it was easy to see that he didn't think it much of a compliment. I think the iron graysⒶemendation took the first premium, the big sorrels, the second, and the negro'sⒶemendation horses the third.

We now left the amphitheatre, and wandered over the grounds in the rain, and finally started home. Finding no chance in the omnibuses at the gate, we went down the road to meet one coming from town. The first one that came along, we crowded into. We had twenty-one men and women inside, and certainly spent a jolly time on the way home. We were safely landed at Olive and Fourth, at half-past six in the evening, after a happily spent day.

Sam.

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Cincinnati, O., Nov. 8th, 1856.

Messrs. Editors:—I propose now to show you the inside of our boarding house, remarking at the outset, that our boarding house is like all other boarding houses. TheⒶemendation scene is the front parlor, this frosty Sunday morning, the 8th day of November, and a number of chairs are drawn up in a semi-circle round a coal fire, snapping and sputtering, in the grate. Breakfast is just over. During the few minutes silence which follows, and which time is employed by these gentlemen in picking their teeth, I'll point out the principal characters.

In the chair next the stove, sits an “old residenter,” entirely bald, with the exception of a fringe of hair commencing at the top of his forehead and running clear round the head, giving that otherwise bare but shining organ something of the appearance of the moon in a dim [begin page 383] halo. This is Mr. Luculus (or, as he is sometimes called, “Sir Oracle”) Cabbage, and his remarks and decisions are always received with the utmost reverence.

Not far from him sits his first born Mr. Jonas Cabbage, whose name has gone through several modifications, commencing with Jones; then Jone; then Jack, and finally Jack-ass. (The latter probably the most appropriate.) He, too, has lost the hair from the top of his youthful head—which has the soft appearance of mush done up in a cotton rag, with a dent here and there—but he has an abundance of red whiskers and moustachios to make amends for the bereavement. He knows when the laugh comes in after an anecdote, by watching the faces of his neighbors.

Mr. BlathersⒶemendation sits next to him. He is rashly fond of an argument, and his eternal misfortune is to get the whole house arrayed against him. He is a long, lank Irishman.

The other gentlemen of importance are Mr. Pottery, Mr. Doodle and Mr. Toploftical. Discussion opens.

Doodle. Have you heard of the homicide in Philadelphia the other day, where a clerk killed his employer, on account of improper intimacy between the latter and the former's wife?

Pottery. Is that so! Served him right.

Toploftical. Be not too hasty. Killing is a terrible thing.

Blathers. Did serve him right. A man who would treat a dependant in such a manner, has no more soul than a horse.

D. Hold on. I spose you think a horse has got no soul.

B. I know it hasn't.

T. Wait a moment, Mr. B. Human beings, poor worms, can't know of the existence of anything which they cannot see, and you cannot see the soul.

B. Tut, tut. I'm not obliged to see a thing in order to know it. Now there's that bloody murder sometime ago. I knew that deed was done, but I didn't see it, and I know the man that done it richly deserved hanging, but was cleared, and left the country, but I didn't see him.

Cabbage Senior. Ah, Mr. Blathers, you shouldn'tⒶemendation say the man deserved hanging till you know something more about the matter. Some men are born to be murderers and they ain't responsible for their natures.

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B. It'sⒶemendation no difference, though,Ⓐemendation Mr. Cabbage, you know, how a man is born—if he's brought up right he won't be a murderer. However yours is a knotty proposition, I must admit.

C. No. 1. Well, but I tell you bringin' up has got nothing to do with it. Individuals and even nations are born murderers.

C. No. 2. That's so, dad! Look at the Injins, darn 'em. Don't they kill people from June till January, and who teaches them? Some of 'em, too, is as intelligent as we are.Ⓐemendation

(Voice.) Amen!

B. Bah! Their fathers taught them. (SilenceⒶemendation of two minutes.)

C. No. 2. The devil they did! Who taught their fathers! He! he! he!

(Voice.) D——d fool. (Aside.)

B. Their fathers—and so on, from generation to generation back to the days when idiots kept their mouths closed.

(No. 2. who thinks B. “soaked it” to T. that time, enjoys the joke exceedingly; but not seeing any good opening to begin his argument again, goes partially asleep.)

P. What was that about the intelligence of this assemblage?

No. 2. I didn't say anything about the intelligence of this assemblage. I meant the—ah,—the—country. Yes, the country—United States. I meant to say that we—that is,—the United States—as a people—ah—is more intellectually developed—in developed in—an intellectual extent of capacity than—that is to say—the intellectual powers is more strong in the development of—of the United States as a people—that is, the intellectuality of the whole country. (Dern this argerin.)

B. Well, well, well. If I've a soul to be saved—

T. Soul, again? How do you know you've got a soul?

B. How do I know I've got a soul? Why, how do I know there is a God?

C. No. 1. Well, how do you know there is a God? You can't see him, you can't feel him, you can't hear him. Come—don't hesitate.

Everybody. Out with it! Out with it!

B. Well, upon my soul. Now you are confounding finite matters with the infinite. Listen, gentlemen. I know that there is a God, by the works of his hands—the gorgeous sun—the gentle moon—the twinkling stars that bespangle the blue dome above our heads. Yea, the vast rivers and the trackless—

No. 1. Oh! dam nonsense. That is nothing but the belief, the faith [begin page 385] imparted by imagination. There is a great difference between knowledge and belief.

No. 2. The old man let him have it that time. That cabbage is a knowin' old vegetable. Why, of course the twinkling sun, and gorgeous stars, and the—the vast aea—and the—rivers—vastly spangled with—with—water—why that ain't no evidence—that don't prove—prove—don't prove—pap, what the devil was he tryin to prove?

No. 1. The existence of a Deity, my son. Don't exert yourself.

B. Nonsense, yourself. Faith and belief is knowledge. If a man isn't to know anything but what comes under his personal observation, what's the use of having courts of law, where men are sworn?

T. Why, in that case, a man believes a witness—but his belief won't amount to knowledge—absolute knowledge, my dear sir.

B. There you are, confounding the finite with the infinite, again. Now, don't I know that James Buchanan is elected President of these United States?

Several voices. No Sir! You don't know any such thing. If you think so, you'll be about as badly fooled as that old man Doodle tells about.

Others. Tell it, Doodle. Hurrah for the yarn.

D. Well, it was about this way. An old farmer had a big buck ram which would invariably chase him out of one of his fields every time he went into it; and one day,Ⓐemendation as he stood on the stile, bowing and smirking with excessive politeness to some ladies passing by, the ram took a stand about twenty yards behind him, and then measuring his distance and his target with a knowing eye, he darted forward, planted his head with tremendous force just beneath the old man's short coat tail, and sent him heels over head into a hog-wallow on the other side. The old gentleman swore vengeance; and after thinking over divers plans, he at last hit upon this one: He got an old wooden chair seat and filled one side of it with sharp-pointed nails, allowing them to project about half an inch. Went to the meadow—knelt down near the stile, and placed the board against his wounded seat of honor, but through some mistake, turned the nail side next himself.

No. 2. Oh! ha! ha! ha!—that was a good one!—tell us another.

Others. Dry up—dry up—the yarn ain'tⒶemendation finished.

Doodle. In about three seconds the old enemy sent his head against [begin page 386] that board like a battering ram, driving the nails home so effectually that the old man says he felt like a sieve for three weeks afterwards.

Everybody. Ha! ha! Served him right.

No. 2. Yes, served him right, but then what the devil did he turn the nails in for?

T. Well, that reminds me of an old ram that once got into a man's cellarⒶemendation one dark night. The servant maid went down and come up frightened to death at the devil she had seen. Then the old man went down, and finally the oldest son, all seeing the devil. Then they sent for the parson, and he went down, wrapped in his cloak, and kneeling on the ground, began to pray. The ram came up behind and butted him clear across the cellar. “Save yourselves, brethren;” said he, “for the devil's got my cloak.”

Doodle looks vacantly at Pottery; Pottery looks at the elder Cabbage, and the younger vegetable gazes into everybody's faces. There's a damper on that conversation! No man knowing whether the anecdote was intended to be funny or serious; they are afraid to risk a laugh, so the company assumes a grave air, and one by one they leave, until finally the room is deserted—a conversation murdered by a pointless anecdote.

Yours.

L.