HIRAM GEEEN AT THE TOWER OF BABEL.
HE INTERVIEWS AN OLD SETTLER.--A REMARKABLE NARRATIVE.
While in New York, a few days sints, I was standin' in the reer of the old City haul, gazin' onto the unfinished marble bildin' which stands there.
My eye gobbled up the seen afore me, like a young weesel a suckin' of eggs,--when an old rinkled-featured--silver-haired and snowy-beerded individual touched me on the sholder, and interogated me thuswisely:
"Stranger, you seem to be stuck to make out what that ere unfinished bildin' is."
"Kerzaclee, old Hoss," sed I, "and I wouldent mind standin' the Lager to find out."
"Come with me to yonder pile of stuns," sed the old feller, "and I will relate a tail, which, for its mysteriousness, ukers the kemikle analersis of a plate of bordin' house hash."
"Wall, old METHUSELER," sed I, as our legs was danglin' over the pile of stuns, "onwind your yarn, but don't let your immaginashun go further than a Bohemian's."
He then began the follerin' histry: