"MEM.-New Orleans is a wery wile, wicious place: they kills men there with Bowie-knives and dogs with pisoned sassengers. They berries the former holesale in the swamp, and retails the latter, tails and all, as sassenger meat. It's a 'orrible state of society!"

THE HEAD vs. THE FEET.

THOMAS TOPPLETON belongs to that class of society who beautify the human head and operate largely in bear's grease -he is a hair dresser. Henry Hendover claims brotherhood with the sons of Crispin-his business is to adorn the foot; but being a genius in his way, he confines himself exclusively to the manufacture of ladies' boots. Thomas Toppleton enjoys the felicity of being a married man. Mr. Hendover has to suffer all the miseries incidental to single blessedness. Both of them live within the romantic limits of Love street; they are near, but not, it would seem, good neighbours. We acquired our first knowledge of the parties at the police office yesterday. There they sat, Toppleton to the right of the Recorder, with a nose as sharp as his own razor, and his hair slick as grease. Hendover to the left of his honour-his face as bright as a lap-stone, and his black eyes shining like balls of patent leather

and he himself looking altogether a strapping fellow. Mrs. Toppleton took her seat right in front of the Recorder, and at an angle of about 45 degrees from her liege lord and the ladies' boot-maker. Toppleton looked hot curling tongs at Hendover -Hendover looked pincers at Toppleton-Mrs. T. looked like herself and unlike either of them. It was evident the two former were plaintiff and defendant in some important case, the particulars of which the investigation was to develope.

The Recorder commanded silence, and five constables simultaneously echoed the call, after which the Recorder raised in his hand a paper folded in an oblong form, and called "Thomas Toppleton » Henry Hendover?" "Mrs. Helen Houri

Toppleton ?"

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Each of them answered to their names, and stood up round the bench.

Recorder." Now, Mr. Toppleton, state your complaint." Toppleton."Yes, I'll tell about it, your honour. You see I aint long from Lunnun; the shop I vorked in there had

THE HEAD US. THE FEET.

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letters patent for shaving the Queen and the royal family; I have frequently myself, your honour, given the royal curl to Prince Albert's royal moustache.

Recorder." What has the curling of Prince Albert's moustache to do with your charge of assault and battery against Mr. Hendover ?"

Toppleton." I'm coming to that point, your honour. You see when I comes here I takes a house in Love street, right opposite this here snob's."

Policeman." Order.”
Recorder.

Use no disrespectful language in court, sir.” Toppleton." Vell, he aint no reg'lar ladies' man, no how. If my vife vas a wirtuous 'ooman, she vouldn't speak to him -that she vouldn't."

Mrs. Toppleton." Thomas, Thomas, my love, is not this pretty language to be used to your lawfully married wife, in a public court?"

Recorder." But how did the accused assault you?"

6

Toppleton." Vell, you see ven I opens a shop in Love street, this here man, Hendover, begins to look queerish at my vife, and she begins to look queerish at him, and she calls him a wery nice man, and says, she vill leave her measure vith him for a pair of prunella boots. She's alvays a goin out, and ven I says to her, Helen my dear, vere have you been? 'Thomas, my dear, I've been listening to Mr. Hendover's canary, that sings so nice.' Vell, your honour, I didn't suspect nothing till last night, ven I vent out to dress a lady's head for the ball, and ven I comes back, I looks in through the vinder, and there I sees this shoemaker vith his hand round my vife's neck, and he singing,' I give thee awl, I can no more,' and saying every thing to her about 'heart and love,' and all that." Mrs. Toppleton. He wasn't doing no such a thing. He came over to show me the kind of leather he was going to put into my boots.

Hendover.--"His charge is the weak invention of a malignant

mind.

Recorder." But what of the assault and battery? Did he strike you?"

Toppleton." No, but he entered my premises without my consent, and vould'nt leave ven I ordered him out."

Recorder." Well, then, you must enter suit against him for a trespass. This case is dismissed."

Mrs. Toppleton left the office a perfect picture of "Niobe, all tears."

after it has slippped through the hands of some thousands, that some fellow, by mere chance, holds on to it!"

Recorder." If fame and notoriety be synonymous, you have now gained what you have been so long in pursuit of. You will see your name in the columns of the Picayune tomorrow-glory enough for one day!

"Take him down," said the Recorder to the officer, and the clerk was ordered to draw out a commitment for Richard Wright for thirty days.

JEALOUSY.

WE verily believe that jealousy was one of the first and most potent of the evils which flew on the world from Pandora's box. We speak of jealousy in a particular and restricted sense, and do not apply to it a general meaning. We do not mean that spirit of animosity begotten between parties by rivalry in business, nor that ill will which is engendered towards aspirants for place or power who outstrip their competitors in the race for either. We allude to that peace-destroying fiend—that implacable foe to domestic peace-that "green-eyed monster," which reverses the rightful position of husband and wife, making home, which should be a paradise, a pandemonium; furnishing the world with tales of scandal, at which modesty blushes and virtue weeps-giving very often extra employment to judges, juries, executioners and executors. This unappeasable passion is indigenous to no particular country nor peculiar to any one class. The untutored Indian on the prairie feels its force as strongly as the educated prince in his palace. The Jew, the Gentile, the Mahommedan and the Christian, are all in turn the victims of its demoniacal fury.

It has seized on the mind of Nancy Nilligan, and the consequence is, that one of the police officers seized on Nancy, on Nancy's husband, Ned Nilligan, and on the alleged author of Nancy's jealousy, Nora Neil. They were all before the Recorder yesterday, and if they were not very eloquent, they were at least very loud in accusation and defence. Nancy, who was rather poetically pathetic, commenced :

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"O, the thief-the thief of the world! to think of lavin' me alone in a strange counthry, like a bird in a wild bog that had lost its mate, or a hare in the snow without a form. O Ned!

it's little I thought, avic, when you soothered me with your sweet talk, that the hot sun of your warm love would so soon be succeeded by the could frost of neglect. O wirastrew! but it was a sorry day to me that you looked on Nora Neil."

Up to this time Mrs. Nilligan spoke more in sorrow than in anger; her language was that of subdued reproof rather than violent crimination; but this allusion to Miss Neil drew from the latter lady the following retort, which was accompanied by a look that, if analyzed, must have contained a full quart of bitters:

"See that now, Mrs. Nilligan; throth, thin, he'll look on me agin, too, and you can't help it either; so you may put your hands in your pockets and plase yourself."

Here the smothered fire of Mrs. Nilligan's wrath blazed forth, and her very looks seemed sufficient to burn to a cinder her real or imaginary rival.

"O, listen to that, your honour," she said; "d'ye hear how the brazen-faced hussy spakes to me teeth afther puttin' betune me and me lawful husband. O, sure if she hadn't the assurance of Freney the robber, she'd hide her head, and would'nt be seen in coort. But sure I know very well Ned wouldn't spake to the likes of her if some fairy woman or some one didn't throw a spell over him.”

"O, Nancy Nilligan, your tongue is no scandal to you," retorted Nora. "I didn't work any pishiroge for her husband, your honour. I'm a dacynt girl, and here's me character that I got from me last place. To tell the thruth, I don't think he's any great beauty, though she thinks that it's out of his big toe the sun shines."

Ned certainly was not a very prepossessing individual. His face resembled a roll of Goshen butter, with a centre slice out in front for a mouth, and two pewter balls stuck in above for eyes. He had withal a good natured kind of look, and traces of repentance were visible on his countenance for any sins of omission or commission of which he might have been guilty towards Nancy.

"Well," said the Recorder to Ned, "what have you got to say in this affair?”

"O, faix," said Ned, rubbing down with his right hand à close crop of hair, rubbing his chin with his left, and looking half lovingly, half imploringly at Nancy-"O, faix, your honour, I b'lieve somebody is to blame; I had, to tell the truth, like Daniel O'Connell, strong notions of repalin' the

union-with Nancy-but now, since I find she still has the ould gra' for me, I'm for goin' back to her and mindin' me business. In fact, your honour, I'm as much in favour of reannexation as President Tyler himself."

This declaration of principles seemed to give Nancy great and unspeakable joy, and Nora Neil left the office saying, she wished her (Nancy) "luck in her bargain."

A CABMAN IN A DILEMMA.

OUT-DOOR THEATRICALS.

AMONG the numerous strange cases brought under the special notice of the Recorder was that of Sophronia Fitzclar ence, who was arrested in the streets a few nights since at the instance of a cabman. With hair dishevelled, bonnet knocked into a "cocked hat," and dress draggled and in disorder, she appeared as though she had been enacting antics under the joint influence of rum and romance.

The cab driver, who was a sinister looking chap with an oblique cast in his eye, a very large head, and an enormously stout neck- was the principal witness against Sophronia, and appeared to be as much of a character as the accused herself. "Well, sir," said the Recorder, "What did Sophronia do to

יי? you

"Vell, if you'll jest hold your hosses a minute or two, I'll give you all the items," retorted the cabman, with the peculiar patois of his particular class.

"Go on, then," continued the Recorder.

Yes, sir. Vell, as I was standing aside of my cab, sir, near the corner of St. Charles and Poydras streets, a thinkin' on my fare for the day, this ere fair one came a stormin' along with a kind of a theatre step, and jest as she got up to me she stopt suddently, give me a wild stare in the face, clasped her hands together, worked her shoulders forward and back, and then kind of shrieked out 'Oh! Clifford is that you?' 'No, I'm d-d if it is,' said I; but afore the words was scarcely out of my mouth she threw both arms round my neck, like I was her own dearest blood relation, then pushed me off at arm's length, looked me full in the eye, and says she, follerin' up her first speech, Clifford! don't you know me? Vell, I