SA-GO-SEN-O-TA, formerly known as Col. WILLIAM L. STONE, is one of the
best Indian writers in this country. His late letter 'To the Sachems,
Chiefs, and Warriors of the Seneca Indians,' acknowledging the honor they
had done him in electing him a chief, is a perfect thing in its kind. May
it be long before the 'MASTER OF BREATH' shall call him to 'the fair
hunting-grounds, through clouds bright as fleeces of gold, upon a ladder
as beautiful as the rainbow!' . . . Our entertaining '_Dartmoor Prisoner_'
has a pleasant story of a fellow-captive who on one occasion performed
that 'cautionary' experiment which is sometimes denominated 'putting your
foot in it.' The term is of legitimate origin, it should seem. According
to the _Asiatic Researches_, a very curious mode of trying the title to
land is practised in Hindostan. Two holes are dug in the disputed spot, in
each of which the lawyers on either side put one of their legs, and remain
there until one of them is tired, or complains of being stung by the
insects, in which case his client is defeated. In this country it is the
client and not the lawyer who 'puts his foot into it!' . . . We have
commenced in the present, and shall conclude in our next number, a
'_Legend of the Conquest of Spain_,' by WASHINGTON IRVING. We derive it
from the same source whence we received the 'Legend of Don RODERICK,'
lately published in these pages. We commend its graphic limnings and
stirring incidents to the admiration of our readers. . . . A FRIEND and
correspondent in a sister city dashes in with a rich brush, in one of his
familiar letters to us, a sketch of a boss-painter, who was renovating the
writer's house with sundry pots of paint; a conceited, half-informed prig,
who having grown rich, talks of 'going to Europe in the steam-boat,' and
has a huge fancy for seeing Italy. 'Yes,' said the house-and-sign RAPHAEL,
'I must see Rome and Athens; them Romans allers made a great impression on
me; the land of APELLES and XERXES; ah! that must be worth travelling
for.' 'Would you not rather run over England?' I asked; but the ass
_poohed_ at England, and on the strength of his daubing our house-blinds,
claimed an interest in the Fine Arts abroad: 'No, Sir, give me Italy--the
Loover and the Vattykin; them's the places for my money! Gods! how I
should like to rummage over them old-masters! They beat _us_ all
hollow--that's a fact. I'll give in to them. There never was such painters
before, nor never will be. I want to study 'em.' 'Yes,' I rejoined;
''twould interest you, doubtless; and after having studied the great
painters in Italy, you might return by way of Switzerland, and scrape
acquaintance with the _glaciers_.' The booby did not _take_, but only
stared and said: 'Oh, they're famous for glass-work there, be they?' This
lover of the Fine Arts had a counterpart in the man who having 'made as
much money as he wanted by tradin' in Boston,' went 'a-travelling abroad;'
and while in Florence, called on POWERS the sculptor, with a design to
'patronize' him a little. After looking at his 'Greek Slave,' his 'Eve,'
and other gems of art, he remarked that he 'thought they'd look a good
'eal better if they had some clothes on. I'm pretty well off,' he
continued, 'and ha'n't a chick nor child in the world; and I thought I'd
price a _statty_ or two. What's the damage, now, for that one you're
peckin' at?' 'It should be worth from four to five thousand dollars, I
think,' answered POWERS. 'What! five thousand dollars for _that 'are_! I
cal'lated to buy me a piece of _stattyary_ before I went home, but
_that's_ out of the question! _Hasn't stattyary riz lately?_ How's
paintin's here now?' . . . Just complaints are made by our city
contemporaries of the exorbitant rates of postage upon weekly periodicals.
Mr. WILLIS complains, in the '_New-Mirror_' weekly journal, that country
postmasters charge so much postage on that periodical by mail, that in
many cases it would make the work cost to its country subscribers something
like ten dollars a year! All postage in this country is at too high a
rate; and so long as it remains so, the law will continue to be evaded.
'Cheating UNCLE SAM' is not considered a very heinous offence. There is
nothing one robs with so little compunction as one's country. It is at the
very worst robbing only eighteen millions of people. . . . The lines sent
us in rejoinder to the stanzas of 'C. W. D.,' in a late issue, would not
be _original_ in our pages; nor could we hope to have many _new_ readers
for them, after they have appeared in, and of course been copied from,
that exceedingly pleasant and well-edited daily journal, the _Boston
Evening Transcript_. . . . HAUFFMAN, the German poet, was recently expelled
from the Prussian dominions, and all his works proscribed thenceforth. 'Served
him right;' for in one of his works appears the 'word following, to wit:'
'_Sleuerverweigerungsverfassungsmassigberechtig_!'--meaning a man who is
exempt by the constitution from the payment of taxes. 'Myscheeves thick'
must needs follow such terrific words. 'We have heard,' says a London
critic, in allusion to this jaw-breaker, 'of a gentleman, a member of the
_Marionettenschauspielhausengesellschaft_, who was said to be an excellent
performer on the '_Constantinopolitanischetudelsackpfeife_!'' . . . We owe
a word of apology to our friends the publishers, for the omission of
notices which we had prepared of their publications, and which are crowded
out by our title-page and index, that were forgotten until the last
moment. We shall 'bring up arrears' in our next.