GRAHAM’S SMALL-TALK.

Held in his idle moments, with his Readers, Correspondents and Exchanges.

Our New Suit.—It is not our purpose to show off—to take airs, to be proud, to refuse to speak to anybody, simply because our new suit has come home, and we are giving it its first holyday airing—but our new type, our new coat which covers it, and the very superior quality of our whole rig is rather stared at, we know—or we should not mention the fact. Excessive modesty has been our weakness—it is the besetting frailty of most Magazine publishers, as is fully evinced in their prospectuses. Humility is tenderly nursed and taken out riding, until it has a consumptive look, and is pronounced “too good for this world.” Yet it is the fashion. Nobody—least of all Godey—or Sartain or Harper—presumes to say a word in self-praise—then why should Graham set himself up and play Captain Grand, even if he is a little stouter and haler, and has a greater extent of territory over which he can gaze like Selkirk,

“Monarch of all he surveys;”

and like Alexander, sigh for “more worlds to conquer.” Why should he be proud? That question rather startles us; but the answer is at hand—because he has the greatest Magazine in the world—and the prettiest girls, and the most of ’em—to read it! It is estimated that 60,000 beautiful women are in love with Graham—the Magazine, of course—and Graham is as proud as Lucifer about it; and Graham prides himself, too, that his subscribers read his book, and are not satisfied with the picture books, which in younger days had so many charms for innocent eyes; when the whale in the spelling-book spouted hugely, even to the top of the page, and the camel had a hump that was a wonder—when stale love-stories and most sickly verse, with fragments disjointed of the veriest cold meats of literature were a marvel—when homilies upon graces, made up of whalebones—the last agony of fashion which it is agony to look at—were food for dreams.

We hold you by the button, reader, merely to mention the various excellencies which crown the feast; that our new type and finer paper, are worthy of special mention. Whether anybody ever had such type—or paper—or ever will have, is not the question; for in these days of special self-sacrifice, it will not do to be too modest, but—Our book is Grand for June.

The Fast Press.—No allusion is made in the title of this article to the extremely fast press which prints Graham—nor to the press which is fast upon the International Magazine—nor ironically to the slow teams which drive some of our cotemporaries with their small editions dismally along; nor yet to the American Press—which is rather progressive—but to Hoe’s immortal invention—the which, in compliment to the Press of the Union, we illustrate in our present and next issues in our usual happy manner. The entire establishment of Col. Hoe is to be set forth in pictured beauty before the readers of Graham in the June and July numbers.

We have paid the artists $400 for the drawings and engravings, and merely mention the fact that those who suppose first rate wood engravings are cheap, may take breath and reform their calculations. No indifferent old block, is ever put off upon our readers as a choice and rare engraving—nor do we submit to any imposition from engravers. Our work must be of the first order—or it is not ours. Some that we have rejected, we see elsewhere, and the publishers appear to be proud of their bargains—and cry, excelsior!

“Graham for May, with twelve engravings and 112 pages of reading, is already on our table—the gem of the season. Long live Graham. Why don’t such a clever fellow get married? That’s what we want to know—and so do the ladies. Then, friend Graham, you would not be troubled so much with your batch of ‘love letters.’ ”—Gazette, Hallowell, Me.

The fact is, we have been thinking of it, for—the last thirteen years—but every month we have to get up a very beautiful woman for the Magazine, and we are always head over ears in love with a new feature. Some of these times we shall settle down quietly and be “a love of a husband”—see if we don’t!

“We think that Godey will have to acknowledge himself beaten this month by Graham; but we wish to ask Graham two questions, and hope he will answer truthfully. The first is, if he is a married man: the second, who engraved the ‘Jolly Good Fellows?’ ”—Southern Argus, Houston, Miss.

Godey says his “Book” is a “peculiar Magazine in all respects—containing matter that does not appear in other magazines, and all other matters that do.” So you see, friend Argus, that he dodges the question, which is what we never did. Devereux engraved the “Jolly Good Fellows.” As to being married—that is another question!

Our friend Duval, of “The Phœnix,” Camden, Ala., throws up his cap and hurras for Graham, and says we are “ahead of all cotemporaries, and understand our business.” It is very evident from the following from the Phœnix, that the merchants of that place do not. “Persons at a distance, looking over the columns of our Camden papers might very reasonably come to the conclusion that we have no merchants or business men in Camden. Well, that is pretty near the truth—we have none who fully understand their business, or they would more frequently make use of the columns of their village papers, to inform the country people that they want their patronage. Our merchants seem to think that all their customers are in town, and see the arrival of their new goods, never thinking, perhaps, that their country customers wait to hear the news.”

How any man, who has a desire to do business, can overlook the manifest advantage of letting people know he has goods to sell, is a marvel—and that large wholesale dealers in our Atlantic cities should overlook the advantage of advertising in the distant papers of business towns, is to be set down as a piece of stupidity only equaled by the tortoise, which shuts its shell that it may not be seen. Wherever your customers are likely to come from—there should be your advertising cards.