But, Master B., don’t imitate any of them ere stiles.

You soot me as you are.

You hain’t one of them chaps, who believes that if a man wants to be good, he must draw down his face, and look as if he had been fetched up on chow-chow and cider vinegar.

Long faces don’t make good fokes, which reminds me that fine feathers don’t allers make fine birds, especcially if it’s a broiled chicken full of fine pin feathers.

I notiss that in your sermons you handle polerticians and bizziness men without gloves.

Between you and I, some of them store keepers and eatin house chaps on Broadway, N.Y., go on the principle—­give as little as they can, for as much as they can squeeze out of their customers.

Up to DELMONICO’S you can buy an apple dumplin for $3.00, and 25 cents extra for a tooth-pick, while at some other places it costs a man 1/2 a dollar to poke his head into a store door.

I went into an ice cream saloon on B’way last time I was in N.Y.

They asked me 50 cents for a plate of ice cream.

When I was leavin, the proprieter accused me of stealin his dish.

I indignantly scorned his vile insineration.

Next mornin, I was pickin out a holler tooth, when sumthing hard struck my tooth-pick.

I pulled out my jack-nife, and dug it out.  To my cerprise, the missin dish came forth, which had been wedged into the cavity beneath a 75 cent piece of pie.

I notiss you draw big houses.

Outsiders grumble some, because they can’t go into your church and take the best seats, and crowd out regular pew-holders.

Let em grumble.  I allers found out that when a man is gettin up in the world, that, like carrion crows hoverin over a sick animal, grumblers fly about him, lickin their chops and watchin a good opportunity to scratch him ragged.

When you git off joaks and set your congregation to laffin, don’t it make you feel scrumpshus?

As a Klergical humorist, there is stamps in you.

But Ive writ more’n I expected when I sot down.

It would delite me and Mrs. GREEN to have you and your good woman pay us a visit.

If you’l come, drop us a line, and we’l open the front parler and invite in a few first families to give you a lively time.

I’l have a coat of white-wash put onto the bed-room walls.  White-wash makes a sleepin-room smell sweet.  Besides it makes bugs dust in a hurry.  My old woman is a sweet white-washer.  I’de bet odds, that MARIAR can get over more territory, with a white-wash brush, than the smartest committee of congresses ever appinted to cover up some dark transaction.

Hopin these few lines will find you in apple-pie order, and able to indulge in numerous frugal meals of hash etc., Ile now say Adux,

Ewers, Litterarily, HIRAM GREEN, ESQ.,

Lait Gustise of the Peece.