"Am
I GREEN, or am I not GREEN? If I haint GREEN, who in SAM HILL am I?"

"Old man," said the porliceman, tryin to quiet me, "you mite have been
_green_ before you struck Pittsburg, but if I haint mistaken, yoo've
been out and got smoked up, and are now as _black_ as the ase of
spades."

"Oh! hor-ri-ble, hor-ri-ble!" I hissed, and rushed into the washroom.

After soakin my head in a wash-basin for a few minnits, reezin agin
returned, and I diskivered, to my disgust, that I had been sold by the
consarned smoke a settin down onto me. Well, Mister PUNCHINELLO, it was
a narrer escape for the old man, you bet. I wasent long in gettin washed
up; and if ever a lone traveller was tickled to set foot onto a rale
rode car homeward bound, it was your hily intelectual and venerable
quill jerkist.

I told Mrs. GREEN of my adventoor. It emejetly sot her into one of her
cranky tantrums. Says she, "HIRAM, you've an old fool. Why don't you
stay home, where you belong, and not go pokin about the country like a
great big booby?"

"But, my dear," was my reply, "GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN got up his name by
gittin into musses, and wastin and pinin away into furrin pastiles."

"GEORGE FRANCIS your grandmother," said she. "You and he orter be tide
together and caged. If I only had the keepin of you then, Ide nock the
foolishness out of your nozzles, or break your pesky old topknots in the
atemt."

Between us, Mister PUNCHINELLO, MARIAR would do that ere thing to the
letter, if she had a chance.

Ewers, white as the druv snow,

HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,

Lait Gustise of the Pees.

* * * * *

[Illustration: TERMS OF SURRENDER.

_Madge (to her elder sister, who has just rung the hall-door bell)._
"FLORA, YOUR BEAU'S HERE."

_Flora._ "LET ME IN IMMEDIATELY, YOU NAUGHTY GIRL."

_Madge._ "I WILL IF YOU'LL PROMISE TO GIVE ME YOUR BON-BON BOX AND CORAL
PIN."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: HIGH REVEL IN THE WHITE HOUSE.]

* * * * *

SARSFIELD YOUNG'S PANORAMA.

PART IV.

THE GOLDEN GATE.

An animated and picturesque view, fresh from the hand of genius.

The mellow sunshine, the birds fluttering in the air, the ships dashing
through the briny deep, the foliage upon the hills in the dim distance,
the glittering steeples of the great city of El Dorado,--and one of
GEORGE LAW'S old man-traps in the foreground, with a high-pressure
boiler (you see t