public good but pretences for private pap? I like politics. Politics,
however, don't seem to like me. I call myself a patriot; but, strangely
enough, or otherwise, I have never been called to fill a patriot's
office--say for $5000 and upward per year. As for a patriot's grave--it's a
fine thing, no doubt, but I have never regarded it as my "mission" to fill
that. It affects one's activity and usefulness, and cuts off going to
FECHTER BOOTH, _Frou-Frou_, the _Twelve Temptations_, and opera.
I declined all such honors during the war, and on principle; the principal
thing being that I had no taste for lead and iron. Iron, I know, is good
for the blood; but taken in bullets, it lessens instead of increases the
circulation. These metals are quite too much for a delicate stomach. Shells
as a drink I like; shells as bombs I do _not_ like. They are
unhealthy. As a beverage I can surround it several times a day, and bless
the climate that grows it, and the cask that makes it. But of shells, as of
company, I prefer to make my choice. I, too, have my choice of office. I am
strong and can draw well. My _forte_ is drawing salary. That may not
be the highest form of art, but it is unquestionably artful. Moreover, it
is the one mankind, if it could, would cultivate with the most assiduity.
It is the plaster every man would put to his back.

As a politician I believe in myself first, my pocket second, my country
third. This platform is strong and satisfactory--at least to your friend,

TIMOTHY TODD.

* * * * *

ALBANY COCK-ROBINS.

Who killed the Charter?