"EPHRAIM, I think your school days is ended." And so they was. I never
went back again, and never saw CHARLEY these thirty-five years gone now,
'till t'other day. I went West in search of a livin', and he tuk onto
business here East. Wons't in a long time I heerd on him; how things
went well with him, and how he got up, up, up, till the ladder wasn't
big enough and he couldn't climb no higher. Folks said he was into the
war; but I didn't believe 'em. CHARLEY was a peace man, I knowed that.
Arterwards, howsumever, it cum out that it was the War Office he was
into, and not the war; and says I to myself, "EPHRAIM," says I, "didn't
I tell you so; and tell them so, and war'nt I right? I calkilate they
won't go back no more on what I says about CHARLEY DANY."

Well, dear Mr. PUNCHINELLOW, I was one day readin' of your paper, and I
comes onto sumthin' about sumbody, which it was as I spell it, "CHARLES
A. DANA," how he was a cuttin' up shines, and how you was a pokin' fun
and hard things at him.

I larfed right out.

"That's smart," says I, "Yes, that's smart; but it ain't onto _my_
CHARLEY. He ain't stuck up nor nothing of that sort. He is as innocent
as gooseberries, is the CHARLEY DANY I know;" and arterwards I thought
no more about it, till I cum on to New York for to look into the cattle
business, and see how things was shapin for trade this winter.

I put up to the St. Nikkleas. Well, I allers larf when I think of it.
Here was an Irishman tuk my bag, slung it behind him, and says he to
me--"Foller me, if you please, sir." I follered accordin'.

I've clumb some pretty tall hills in my day, Mr. PUNCHINELLOW, but that