ANOTHER year gone by! Old Styx Has swallowed Eighteen-Fifty-six, And, like a huge Constrictor Boa, Distends his jaws for something more, Beginning, while we're talking, even, On Eighteen Hundred Fifty-seven. Now naught remains for us to do But just to pass in grave review The dying cycle, and to fix All we can rescue from the Styx.

The year, like others gone before it, Has had its shadows gathering o'er it, And glittering, twinkling all between, Its flecks and reaches of bright sheen; His shaken now with ague fits, Anon been seethed in fever sweats; Has shown us gusty March, one day, And then the soft and genial May;

NEW SERIES.-VOL. III.-1

Its August, scalding every member,
And then its shivering, bleak December.
'T has had its full and honest share
Of toil and pleasure, fear and care,
And sometimes, when heart-cracked with pain,
Has cracked its jokes, and laughed again,
And then, upon some broken head,
Its half a pint of tears has shed.

In gallant deeds, and lofty vaunting,
The by-gone year has not been wanting,
Nor, if the truth be told, can rhyme
Deny it somewhat of sublime.

We've had our battles, gay with banners,
Noisy with shoutings and hosannas,
Our ups and downs, our ins and outs,
And all the shades of wins and routs,
And let me not be hypercritical-
I scorn to speak of things political,

Of such poor trash as freemen's brains,
Revolvers, gutta-percha canes,

Of insults, ribaldry, abuse,

Such as in Congress they let loose,

Who, paid enormous sums for ruling,
Waste time and money all in fooling;
Who, whatsoe'er the laws they're making,
Know less of honoring than breaking;
And who, if laws should have their due,
Would hang. But what is that to you?
We, of the Merry host, have seen
An active, brilliant, hard campaign;
Have heard the hail and thunder rattle
Of a well-ordered, hard, pitched battle;
Have seen the victims, wounded, slain,
Stretched ghastly out upon the plain;
And, while the combatants, yet warm
To urge a siege, assault, or storm,
And each with eager breath declaring
His appetite for deeds of daring,
And shouting 'mid the revelry
His stern resolve to "do or die."
A new bold spirit we have seen,
Of lofty air and gentle mien,
Assume, at risk of very life,
To be an umpire in the strife,
And, having put her finger in it,
Sue for a peace-and nobly win it.

But what brave skirmishes we saw,
While we were under martial law!
What earnest scrambling for the prizes
"Twixt a's and r's, b's and yz's!
What stormy, rampant algebraics!
What muss and fuss among the laics,
Because they could not comprehend
Where a, b, x, and y would end,

Or how, when ended, they would stan' at
A better point than they began at !

How boldly stood the "Black-Eyed-Mary!"
How wise the Blue-Eyed" looked, and wary!
How chevalier, and pugilist,

Brave Syracuse, and stern Elmira,
Each stood for laurels an aspirer,
Waging with sword and battle-X
A warfare with the gentler sex,
While Lowville to the rescue came,
With all the requisites of fame,
And Ellen, in her maiden pride.
Threw down her gauntlet for "our side;"
"Nippinifidget,"-" Well done, John”-
And cousin Frank came rushing on;
"Carolus,"" Black-Eyed Laura,”—“ Dodt,"
And she who in the corner got;
And Willie, Bay State, G. H. B.,
With knights and squires of high degree,
And Amazons, and courtly dames
Sent to the wordy strife their names
Took up their cudgels, and set in
For a full share of fun and din.
What squibs, torpedoes, rockets, mines,
Flew flashing all along the lines!
How screaming bugles, rattling drums,
Mingling with bursting shells and bombs,
Shook sea and land and sky, and gave
A world of trouble to the brave.

This casus belli settled-(vide
Aunt Sue, proclaiming bona fide,
Though much against the wranglers' will,
A full "Pacification Bill)-
We're now as quiet, if you please,
As mice are in a white-oak cheese;
Wechat" and spat, but still agree,
Like Barnum's "Happy Family."
In this kind temper, pausing here,
We shake hands with the dying year,
And with a warm and hopeful pressure,
Shake hands with his unknown successor,
Hoping he'll prove more quiet far
Than his belligerent Papa.

To all the young folks, far and near,
We wish a right good Happy Year,
A year of duty nobly done,

A year of pleasure nobly won,

A year to be remembered long,
Unmarked by grief, unstained by wrong,
A year whose every page shall be
A record for eternity,

In which no single line, once traced,
You'll wish amended, or effaced.