and a canister-shot-eyed bull-terrier, gifted with
seven-tiger power of biting.

'Stop that are!' was his courteous salutation.

'Stop what?'

'Stop making them are d--d picters. I don't have no such doings reound
here!'

I looked at C. Pia--he was venomous and unterrified, and I felt
encouraged. So I firmly asked the intruder what he meant.

'I mean what I say. There's property there that I'm a goin' to buy. I
know what you're arter. You're makin picters of the place for that are
in-fernal Kernal Smith who owns the land, so's he can show 'em round and
pint out the buildin' lots. And I'll jest lick you like ---- if you dror
another line!'

'See here, young man,' quoth I, 'I've something to say to you. In the
first place you're a scamp who would keep a gentleman from getting a
fair price for his own property. Secondly, you're an ignorant fellow and
don't know what you're talking about. I never heard of your Colonel
Smith--I'm not drawing up real estate lots or plots of any kind.
Thirdly, I solemnly swear by Minos, Alianthus, Rhododendron,
Nebuchadnezzar, and all the infernal gods, that if you touch a hair of
our heads I'll see Colonel Smith--I'll map the whole property and
advertise it in every newspaper in New-York and Boston till it brings
ten thousand dollars an acre. Now sail in--dog or no dog--we'll settle
_you_, any how.'

The glare of fury in our visitor's eyes died away as he listened to this
oration.

'_Thunder!_' he exclaimed; 'what a lot you city fellers with l'arnin'
into you _do_ know! Ten thousand dollars an acre! Ad-ver-ti-sin'! What
an idee! I guess I'll buy the land on a morgidge right away. _Hee, hee,
hee_--it's a first-rate notion--and I _a-dopt_ it. Mister, if you want a
drink o' cider, you can get it at that are red house you see down
yander. Good-mornin'!'

And off he went.

'You've made that fellow's fortune--when you ought to have caved his
head in,' remarked C. Pia as the two brutes disappeared.

'It is the mission of the artist to benefit every body except himself,'
I rejoined. And refilling my pipe I went on with my 'picter.'

Yours truly, GALLI VAN T.

Truly 'Art is--well--a--it's a great thing, and hath its many lights and
shadows,' as Phoenix or some body once ascertained. And we trust that
Galli Van T. will continue to depict the same in his peculiarly
affecting style.

* * * * *

Among the curiosities of literature which the war has broug