.MTMxMQ.MTA2NDk3

in this world-strange feelings, strange ideas, strange sights, strange doings, strange "critters," strange squabbles, strange bets, strange papers, strange dogmas-ah! why are the latter like a - with pups? any body can guess that-strange religions, strange women, strange men, and strange humbugs; and to the latter class of this strange catalogue of strangers belongs Mr. John Rogers Clayton, a denizen of a shot not a thousand miles from the "Courier" office. Mr. John Rogers Clayton is a very great artist in delineating the form of the human face divine; or what is the same thing his predecessor was, and he inquires that like Elijah of old, his mantle has fallen upon him. Mr. John Rogers Clayton's unclear of self esteem is not larger than a half bushel measure and therefore he must be unclear for his unclear modestly in placing his powers on a level with those of his predecessor, for if his pictures were taken by himself instead of a well paid artist, the case might be different. He is so amicable with all in his disposition, so polite, so unclear of the rules of etiquette, so devoid of unclear and jealousy, so refine, so guarded in his conversation while speaking of the merits or demerits-particular the former-of those with whom he has dealings. In politeness he is a perfect Chesterfield, or Christian?; to the ladies