Timothy Boyle, entering the post-office one morning, and perceiving a clerk "taking a limited view of society" through the aperture technically called "general delivery," naturally supposed that the duties of this functionary included receiving as well as delivering, and accordingly handed him a letter adorned with the lineaments of the Father of his Country, (not Tim's,) and bearing upon its exterior this general exhortation to all whom it might concern,--"With spede." The clerk directed Tim to deposit the document in the letter box. "And where _is_ the letther box?" "Follow this railing," said the young man, "and you will find it round the corner;" meaning thereby the corner of the tier of boxes, which was surrounded by a neat railing. On the strength of these instructions, Tim turned on his heel, dashed into the main street, ("with spede," as per letter,) and walked on vigorously till he arrived at a corner, which happened to be occupied as a tailor's shop. "I want to put this letther in the box," said Tim, after looking about him in vain for any sign of such a receptacle. "What box?" asked the tailor. "What box would I put it in but the letther box?" replied Tim. "Who sent you here after a letterbox?" said the tailor; "you must be a natural fool to suppose that we have any such thing here." "Natheral fule or not, sir, I was towld by the clark at the post-office that I'd find the box round the corner, and shure this is a corner I've come to, and if it isn't here, I don't know where I'll find it." "You'd better go back to the post-office," said the tailor, "and see whether the clerk can make you understand where to put your letter." So the unlucky Tim left the tailor's shop with the impression that he had been made a goose of by the post-office clerk, and by "nursing his wrath to keep it warm," he succeeded in bringing it to the boiling point, by the time that he again entered the office. "And it's a purty thrick ye've bin a playin' me, Misthur Clark," he vociferated, "sendin' me to a tailor's shop for a letther box! Bad luck to ye, what for did ye put me to all this throuble?" The clerk blandly explained to Mr. Boyle that the "throuble" was caused by his own impetuosity, not to say stupidity, and finally succeeded in describing the locality of the letter box in such a lucid manner, that even Tim was guided by his direction to the much desired spot, and it is to be hoped that the letter in question underwent no more such vicissitudes, before it reached its destination. * * * * * AN "EXTRA" CUSTOMER. An Irish dame entered the post-office at----, and walking up to the post master with a letter in one hand, and a three cent piece in the other, she committed them both to his charge, inquiring, "will the letther go?" "Certainly it will," was the reply. "But is it in time for the extra?" "In time for the _what_?" asked the mystified post master.