Complimentary Note, he had billed himself as an Author and had been
pointed out as such at more than one Chautauqua.

Consequently his Views on Recent Fiction carried much weight with the
Carries.

He loved to pile the Fagots around a Best Seller and burn it to a
Cinder, while the Girls past 30 years of Age sat in front of him and
Shuddered.

As for the Drama, he could spread a New York Success on the marble-top
Table and dissect it until nothing was left but the Motif, and then he
would heave that into the Waste Basket, thereby leaving the Stage in
America flat on its back.

And if you mentioned Georgie Cohan to him, the Foam would begin to
fleck his Lips and he would go plumb Locoed.

After he had been sitting on the Fence for many years, booing those
who tried to saw Wood, his Satellites began coaxing him to write
something that would show up Charley Klein and Gus Thomas and all the
other Four-Flushers who were raking in Royalties under False
Pretenses.

They knew he was a Genius, because nothing pleased him.

He decided to start with something easy and dash off an Operetta.

Having sat through some of the Current Offerings, he noted that the
Dialogue was unrelated to Real Literature and the Verses lacked
Metrical Symmetry.

It would be a Pipe for a sure-enough Bard to sit down on a Rainy
Afternoon and grind out something that might serve as a Model for
Harry B. Smith.

So he had a Vase of Fresh Flowers put on his Desk every Day, and he
would sit there, waiting for the Muse to keep her Date.

At the end of a Month he had it all planned to lay the First Scene in
front of a Palace with a Forest on the Back Drop so as to get a lot of
Atmosphere.

There was to be a Princess in the Thing, and a Picture of the
long-lost Mother in the Locket and other New Stuff.

He put in Hours and Hours hand-embroidering the Verses.

When he made "Society" rhyme with "Propriety," he thought he was
getting to be Gilbertian.

While these Lyrics were still quivering, he would take them out and
read them to his wife and the Hired Girl and the man who attended to
the Furnace, and get their Impartial Judgment.

They agreed that it was Hot Gravy and too good for the Stage.

Encouraged by these heart-felt Encomiums, he would hike back to the
Study, shoot himself in the Arm with a hypothetical Needle, and once
more begin picking Grapes in Arcady.

When People came up to the House, not knowing that he had been taken
down wi