The Anderson Intelligencer

Wit and Humor.

The best masters of the art are gradually dying out. Capt. Derby, better known as "John Phoenix," one of the inimitable and unapproachable writers of this generation, died some time since at his station on the Pacific coast, and now we hear of the death of Charles F. Brown (Artemus Ward,) who crossed the water to delight the people of England, and then died among them. Artemus was a practical printer, and showed his appreciation of the craft by his will, in which he left all his property to his mother, for her use during life, and at her death it is to be devoted to founding a printer's asylum in New York. His property is estimated at over $100,000, which, if judiciously invested, will afford relief to many an indigent brother of the craft.

The original Jack Downing (Seba Smith) is, we think, still living in Portland, Maine, but the man who took up the title after Mr. Smith dropped it, and wrote some of the most pungent criticisms on the government and its acts, departed this life a few days since in New York. "Jonce Hooper," as his friends called him, the author of "Simon Suggs," is another one who is missing when the roll is called. No one looking at him would think that so much fun laid under that apparently solemn exterior: He looked and acted like a preacher; but, in company, he would sometimes unbend, and then the boys enjoyed themselves. As editor of a country paper in Alabama, and afterwards managing the Montgomery Mail, he made "troops of friends," who regretted his early death, and still cherish the memory of J. J. Hooper, who was decidedly the best humorist that Alabama has produced.

The Rev. Judge. Longstreet, author of "Georgia Scenes," is, we are pleased to learn, still in the enjoyment of good health at Oxford, Mississippi. We hope he may live many years yet; and when he is finally called away from earth, that it will only be to exchange the troubles and trials of this sublunary sphere for the enjoyments of the righteous, to whom it will be said: "Come up higher."

C. I. Smith, the original "Bill Arp," has become "reconstructed," and settled down at his ranch in Rome. He will write again, sure, for he is one of the irrepressible kind.

"Sut Lovengood," alias Geo. W. Harris, formerly Postmaster at Knoxville, Tennessee, has let his pen lie idle too long. We don't know where he has located, but hope soon to hear from him.

Col. W. T. Thompson, the author of "Major Jones' Courtship" and several other humorous works, which have taken a high place in the standard literature of the country, is still living and flourishing, and we hope ere long to see some new productions from his pen, now too long unused.

We now turn towards the Southern extremity of the country. Geo. McKnight (Asa Hartz) has written many good pieces but it is unfortunate that he writes so seldom. After the death of Jos. Brennan, of the N. O. Times, he holds the first place in that section. He is a printer; as, in fact, are most of the good writers in the world.

Going from one extreme to the other we find in Boston the rotund and good natured B. P. Shillaber, the original Mrs. Partington, who has done perhaps more than any one else to dispel the blues. He is another typo, and the fattest one in the country, except Bill Daggett, of the Charleston Courier: Savannah Advertiser.