'Piscopal
church.

Soon as he cot site of me, he sez:

"Young man, where am that red-hedded, shaller-braned, lantern-jawd,
squint-eyed, crooked-knoes son of a ded beet? Show me him till I
pulverise him so fine that his remanes wouldn't bring 5 cents if you was
to sell em for pure superfosfated binary bone."

"Wot did you remark?" sez I.

"Show me the insignificant littel puppy wot sed I was a red-hedded old
snoozer," sed he.

"Oh! you wish ter see the edittur. I'll call him," sez I.

[Illustration: A GENTLEMAN, WANTS TO INTER VUEHIM. ]

Then I went to the speakin tube wot goes up inter the composin-room, and
sung out orful loud:

"Tell the fitin edittur that there's a gentleman, down in the offis,
wants to intervue him. Tell him he'd better lode up his dubble-barrl'd,
breech-lodin blunderbuss with dannymite cartrag cos the gentleman
prefers a-heeted argument."

Then I turned round and told the man that the edittur 'd be down in a
minnit.

He cooled rite off and sed:

"Thank you, my boy; there's no hurry; I guess you'll do jest as well.
I only called to pay for your valuabel paper. Tell the edittur my hole
family culdn't get along without it; even the baby lays awake all nite
cry in' for it."

And then he handed me a $10 bill and didn't wate for no change, for he
ony had a cuppel uv minnits to each a trane in. Mr. Gilley was listenin'
to the hull conversashun, an', wen the coast was cleer, he come out from
his hidin' place and patted me on the back and sez:

"Georgie, you're a brick; you're goin' to be a onher to your perfeshun.
Sum day you'll be a _Pulsitter_, cos you've got the gall of a _Sun_
reporter."

I wonder if _Sun_ reporters swet much, cos I never go golled 'less it
was in summer wen pa maid me play the fiddel with the old buck saw,
gettin' the wood reddy for winter. I guess I must be a hero, cos
the sportin' edittur, wen he hurd wot I did, took me to the fotograf
gallarv, and had my pictur taken, so as he culd pass me off for the new
English prize fiter, wot he's training so as he can lick Sullivan.

CHAPTER VII.

HE INTERVUES ELI PERKINS AND GETS SUM POINTS ON JURNERLISTIC
EGGSAGGERASHUN, PREVARICASHUN AND MAGNIFYCASHUN.--Y PULLMAN
STOK IS GOIN UP.

Wen I was round to the hotels, this mornin' gettin the arrivals, I seen
sumthin on the regester of the Grand Pacific wot look'd like a cuppel of
spiders had ben fitin and got there legs in the ink bottel and crawled
ov