Letter from United States Senator Lane [pp. 125]

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MARCH 16, 1861.] YNJT FAIP. 15
Axrtistic Photographer.-NOT YOUR EXPRESSION, SIR!-YES SIR-MUST
BE PRE-CISELY AS YOU LOOKED, SI-IF YOU HAD SMILED, SIR-WOULD
HAVE BEEN TAKEN, SIR-MORE DIGNIFIED, SIR, AS IT IS —-DELICATE
THING, SMILE, SIR-SOMETIMES COMES UP SIMPER.
Ge~d.' NOT MY SMILE AT ALL-DEMNED UNSATISFACTORY.

AFFAIRS IN ITALY.
BY OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.
ROME, Feb. 18th.
DEAR VANITY:-Since my last, I have for the first time in my
brief but varied existence, been inducted to the great mystery of
the heart.
In short, I am in love.
1 have yearned for fame in my time. I have longed for wealth.
I have aspired to the possession of power. I have coveted a good
head of hair. I have desired manly beauty, high-living, terrierpups, diamonds, brown-stone fronts, malachite writing-desks,
powerful biceps, a long life, meerschaum pipes, and virtue, at
various eras.
Well, most of these boons are now mine..
But am I content?
Not so much as formerly.
Now, I yearn for one kindred soul... a heart to beat in unison
with mine, and mine alone. A sweet sympathetic heart that can
appreciate me, the unappreciated; understand me, the misunderstood...
And I am in a pretty fair way to get what I want.
The soft silver light of the moon threw misty bars of shimmering shine athwart the dusky olives that flank the ramparts of the
Liceitian Hills. The night was bathed in liquid beauty, and the
nightingale murmured his voluptuous hymn to the wind-waved
roses of the Randangean Gardens.
Rome slept..
Anon, uprose into the marrowy atmosphere of the Italian Summer sky, a soft serenade, whose dreamy cadences swept sonorously
over the gray and dew-damped roofs of t'he Eternal City; mingled
with the delicious clangor of the light guitar...
That was me, singing.
It seemed as if heaven rained pellucid streams of music; that
the vines and olives cuddled beneath the mountain's massive
shade, quivered audibly in the long flood of melody that drew
from Rome across the sweet-sickened air of the marshes, to faint
and die in the odorous purple of the cloud-argosies that hung
their phantasmal splendors along the jewelled.West.
There, that is in the style of Miss PiEScOTT.
To be brief, I sang at midnight, on a moonlight night.
A jalousie above me opened, and a bouquet fell at my feet,
dropped by a hand as fair as that with which DrAN formerly beckoned ENDYMION. In the bouquet was a note, saying that I sang
exquisitely, and that the writer was passionately fond of music.
Further, that if I would pass the same spot the next morning, I
could see one whose heart had been touched by my refrain, but
whom I must refrain from touching.
It was signed PIUSETTA.
Away with war and tu'imult! I came -to conquer. I am conquered! I came in the Tantrum, and It amin tantrums now! I
saw the maiden at thejalousie, on the morning after my vocal triumph, and though I saw her but a'moment, methink:I see her
now.. all my fancy painted her...i-eiv i red, red rose..
morn, noon, and night, where er I may be, ever I'm dreaming
fondI~:of her, and would I were with her every day and hour, for
she's ll the world to me.: -
But,.. --: X. e -- -
I fear for the future.: -
-0... PWSETTA.. th faughtL, Pope, by his first
wife, and is intended,for a reiigious f' is a superior lady,
and His Holiness wishes her to beome a:Lady Superior. She is
now a nun.
CAVOUR, who is here, asks g me what. style of woman I like best.
"'Nun " say I.
I have called upon:;'o, as I hve bve ie:ted, is not
at: all a bad fellow. wtt; /wev)~ I sai d nothing about
his daughter.:I sh " l a e with!: [Thconditions of the tera t'y ey w Wit him. Ierefuses, I shall
join my vessel, the " u rd o* fr " p"city. —-- -
I -have been told' I wo'i mn'Rome a hardnut,-but I think
I.cau Shell it.
ARIiALDI has g~ —to W v H:un He isenlistisg the sympathies
And sons of te the'-lo Au,,ria Pfissia, Russia, Bel-gium,Gem;y, - Ger tetay, sutzia.:rn,:d(Eu:pe generally, in
fact, ifcidln r Finniand lA teisi-on in North
America, tremble l Le jour degloire est arri'd:I
Though I be something gracious and courtly in love, I am terrible in war. Great joy is within my flagons, but upon my sword
sits Death, the Conqueror, enthroned. Basta -
And JOE GARIBALDI IS just like me.
And I am yours,
MCeRONE.

Letter from United States Senator Lane.
We have great pleasure in publishing the following letter from
that brilliant statesman, the Hon. JOSEPH LANE, of Oregon. It may
seem somewhat paradoxical that a Pacific statesman should be so
ferociously warlike, but that is evidently none of our business.We cannot comply with Mr. LANE'S request in regard to hoisting
the Palmetto flag, but we will say that we admire his (We allude
to Mr. LANE, and not the flag, of course) boldness, candor and eloquence:
SE,rr CHAMBIR, Washingtun,.
March the thurd, 18 & 60 onct. j
Eds. Vannurty I?-ire:-if god spairs my live I shall seeseed with In 20 dase.
jonson oftennysea is fernenst me but he haint got no intellect into him. Sivil
war is sertin & I wants to here the Kannin Rore. Hist the Palmettoe bannir
from on top your offiss & let it waive to the Brees. Don't mucillate this mannerscript and be particlar not to maike no Misstaiks in the spellin and punktooate it
proper, amerykan Staitsmen suffers from scrofulus papers which tries to bring
them into ridicooI by mucillatin there mannerscripts.
On to the frey I the god of Bottles smiles upon the palmottoe flag.
yours respectably,
GoSEF LANE.
Here They Are!
The English, because they found no little slippers in the ladies
apartments in the Emperor of China's Summer Palace, argued that
the small foot dynasty has passed away.
Bulls! had you have visited Central Park when the New Yorkeresses were on the ice, you would have seen where the dear Little
Slippers were.
Shave for a Penny.
Enquire at the Jersey Central Railroad Office. But don't make
a note of it. Notes are at a discount of four per cent there.
Logic and Epaulettes.
CHASE'S plan of taking Fort Pickens by stratagem-an Illicit
Process of the Major.
VANITY F-AIR.
lg5
MARCH 16, 1861.]
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