TRANSCENDENTAL NEOPHYTE.--Mr. JOHN BURNS has joined the Kabbylists.

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OUR YOTTING YORICK.

DEAR EDITOR,

How can I send you "a sketch of anything I see," when I haven't
seen anything for the last twenty-four hours. Impossible! utterly
impossible! You simply want me to do impossibilities, and I am only
mortal. _Voilà_! I don't complain; I only say I can't draw what
I don't see; and as to sending funny sketches when it's raining
in torrents, and been doing so for the last forty-eight hours
three minutes and twenty-one and a-half seconds, I'm--well, I
can't--_simplement_. Torrents of rain. Anyone can draw water--but draw
rain! Yes, when on horseback, I can draw rein. Good that, "when you
come to think of it,"--considering that I'm 1900 miles from an English
joke, so that this you may say is far-fetched, only 'tisn't fetched
at all, as I send it. Think I've left out an "0," and it's 19,000. _It
seems like it_. Here we are in Petersburg. Mist's cleared off. We're
anchored close to Winter Palace, and I've just seen a droschki-driver,
whom I sketch. Not unlike old toy Noah's-Ark man, eh? Something
humorous at last, thank Heaven! But did I come 1900 miles to see this?
Well, "Neva no more!"

[Illustration: Droschki-Driver.]

Mister Skipper says I ought to go to the _Petershoff_. All very well