servant."
I liked Min-Yung, but I had nothing for him to do; beside, I like to be
my own servant. It would make me as nervous as a cat in a china closet,
to have anybody always standing behind my chair. So, the gentleman who
gave him the money, said he was going to California soon, and would
like to have Min-Yung go with him, to wait upon him. Wasn't that kind?

It did not take the poor China-man long to pack his trunk, for the very
good reason that he had nothing to put in it. So, in less than a week's
time, his wooden shoes walked on board the ship "Dolphin," and away he
went to California, and I didn't hear of him again for many a long day.

It seems that after his master had got through all his business in
California, he asked Min-Yung if he would like to go back to his own
country and see his old father and mother, and his sisters, with the
twinkling little feet;--and Min-Yung said yes. So the gentleman gave
him some money, and he started off, in his little skull cap, for the
"Celestial City."

I often used to think of him, and wonder if he found his old father and
mother alive; and if they were glad to see him; and often, when I
turned out a cup of tea, I laughed aloud to think of poor Min-Yung's
horrid grimace, when I offered _him_ some.

One day a huge box came for me, directed "United States of America." I
couldn't imagine what was in it. I thought of mummies, and stuffed
monkeys, and "infernal machines;" and walked round the box at a
respectful distance, with one eye on the door.

By and by the lid was knocked off; and now, what do you think I found
in it?--a chest of "tea;" none of your sham doses, but tea that a
Chinese Mandarin wouldn't have turned up his celestial nose at, and a
lovely little Chinese work-box, and a pretty scarlet, Canton-crape
scarf, all from that comical, good, affectionate Min-Yung.

Won't you and I call on him, when we go to China?

TOM, THE TAILOR.

Tell you another story, Charley? Bless your blue eyes, how many stories
high do you suppose I am?

Who made that jacket for you, hey?

"A tailor."

Do you like to see a _man_ sewing, Charley? I don't. I don't believe
that their great muscular arms were intended to wield a needle,
especially when so many feminine fingers are forced to be idle for want
of employment; so I never like to see a tailor.--Oh, yes, I do, too. I
came very near forgetting Tom Willcut.

Who was _he_? I don't know, any more than you do. The fir