e establishment of a new postoffice.

The writer of the letter said the application could not be granted, in
consequence of the applicant's "proximity" to another office.

When the letter came into G.'s hand to copy, being a great stickler for
plainness, he altered "proximity" to "nearness to."

Major H. observed it, and asked G. why he altered his letter.

"Why," replied G., "because I don't think the man would understand what
you mean by proximity."

"Well," said Major H., "try him; put in the 'proximity' again."

In a few days a letter was received from the applicant, in which he very
indignantly said that his father had fought for liberty in the second
war for independence, and he should like to have the name of the
scoundrel who brought the charge of proximity or anything else wrong
against him.

"There," said G., "did I not say so?"

G. carried his improvements so far that Mr. Berry, the
Postmaster-General, said to him: "I don't want you any longer; you know
too much."

Poor G. went out, but his old friend got him another place.

This time G.'s ideas underwent a change. He was one day very busy
writing, when a stranger called in and asked him where the Patent Office
was.

"I don't know," said G.

"Can you tell me where the Treasury Department is?" said the stranger.

"No," said G.

"Nor the President's house?"

"No."

The stranger finally asked him if he knew where the Capitol was.

"No," replied G.

"Do you live in Washington, sir."

"Yes, sir," said G.

"Good Lord! and don't you know where the Patent Office, Treasury,
President's House and Capitol are?"

"Stranger," said G., "I was turned out of the postoffice for knowing too
much. I don't mean to offend in that way again.

"I am paid for keeping this book.

"I believe I know that much; but if you find me knowing anything more
you may take my head."

"Good morning," said the stranger.

HE LOVED A GOOD STORY.

Judge Breese, of the Supreme bench, one of the most distinguished of
American jurists, and a man of great personal dignity, was about to open
court at Springfield, when Lincoln called out in his hearty way: "Hold
on, Breese! Don't open court yet! Here's Bob Blackwell just going to
tell a story!" The judge passed on without replying, evidently regarding
it as beneath the dignity of the Supreme Court to delay proceedings for
the sake of a story.

HEELS RAN AWAY WITH THEM.

In an argument against the opposite