"You're a man of excellent judgment," I replide; "I think I am pooty
good lookin' for a man of my years."

"You don't undertand me, sir," he agin said. "Come down with your
stamps."

"My which?" said I, turnin' a little red in the face.

"Your gate money," he replied, tryin' to shove me back. "We charge $1.00
for goin' in here."

"You do, do you?" said I, wavin' my umbreller over his head
threatenin' manner. "When our goverment resooms speshie payment agin
maybe I'le send you a silver dollar with a hole into it, and maybe I
won't; it will depend a good deal on the pertater crop."

I was very much agitated. Pullin' out my silver watch I says: "My sweet
sented Plumbob, if you don't histe your butes away from that gate in 2
seconds I'le bust your biler with this 'ere bunch of bones," and I
tickled the end of his probocis with my fist, as I gently rubbed it
under his smeller.

He saw heed caught a Tarter, in fact, a regular Tarter emetic, and he
slunk away rather sudden.

I had sent too many of such skinamelinks to the clay banks when I was
Gustice of the Peece to allow 'em to fool me much.

I visited WOOD'S Museum to see the wacks figgers and things.