“You’re a good feeder.  Alimentiveness and order well developed.  No man better fitted to order a waiter around.  From the immature condition of your organ of benevolence, I shouldn’t care, however, to be the waiter.

“Self esteem doesn’t seem to have been kept back by the drought.

“Ideality, I discover from the depression in the S. W. corner, is missing.  Nature beautifully compensates this loss by making language very full—­more words than ideas.  In profane language, I dare say, now, you are particularly gifted.

“In one respect your head resembles that of the Father of His Country.  It lacks adhesiveness.  So does GEORGE’S—­on the postage stamps.

“Unlike most subjects, your organ of firmness is not confined to any one spot, but is spread over the entire skull.  This phenomenon is due to your being what we technically call ’mule-headed’—­a fine specimen which—­”

“Excuse me,” said I, unwilling any longer to impose on his good nature, “I feel I must make sure of that other train, so I will just trouble you for that organ of firmness and the rest of them.  I never travel without them.”  Then, hurrying all my phrenology into my hat, I started down the street.

I wonder he didn’t say something about my memory’s being below par—­somehow I quite forgot to pay him for shaving me.

Yours, without recourse,

SARSFIELD YOUNG.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  VERY “HARD CIDER.”

THE PIPPINS OF THE JOHN REAL DEMOCRACY, (MESSRS.  MORRISSEY, O’BRIEN, AND
FOX,) GETTING THEIR LAST SQUEEZE FROM GOVERNOR HOFFMAN.]

* * * * *

HIRAM GREEN IN GOTHAM.

He Strays among Sharpers, and “Sees the Elephant.”

There’s many things in the big city which pleases me, and causes us all to feel hily tickled over our success as a Republic.

At the present writin’, many furrin’ nations would give all their old butes and shoes if, like us, they could throw their roolers overboard every 4 years, and have a new deel.

Our institutions are, many of ’em, sound:  altho’ I’ve diskivered to my sorrer, that some of the inhabitants of New York are about as puselanermus a set of dead-beats which ever stood up.

While sojernin’ here, my distinguished looks kicked up quite a sensation wherever I put in an appearance.  On one occasion, a man stepped up to me who thought I was a banker, and richer than Creosote, and wanted me to change a $100 bill.  I diden’t do it.  Not much.  No, sir-ee!—­they coulden’t fool the old man on that ancient dodge.

But, friend PUNCHINELLO, to my disgust and shagrin’, I must acknolidge the corn, and say, I hain’t quite so soon as I allers give myself credit for bein’, as the sekel of this letter will show.

Last Saturday P.M.  I was a sailin’ down Dye Street with my bloo cotton umbreller under my arm, feelin’ all so fine and so gay.