birds had not yet learned to recognize in the rude
structure any improvement on nature, and this idea pleased him so much
that he incorporated it in the editorial article which he was then
doubly composing. For the editor was also printer of the "Record";
and although that remarkable journal was reputed to exert a power felt
through all Calaveras and a greater part of Tuolumne County, strict
economy was one of the conditions of its beneficent existence.

Thus preoccupied, he was startled by the sudden irruption of a small
roll of manuscript, which was thrown through the open door and fell at
his feet. He walked quickly to the threshold and looked down the tangled
trail which led to the high-road. But there was nothing to suggest the
presence of his mysterious contributor. A hare limped slowly away, a
green-and-gold lizard paused upon a pine stump, the woodpeckers ceased
their work. So complete had been his sylvan seclusion, that he found
it difficult to connect any human agency with the act; rather the hare
seemed to have an inexpressibly guilty look, the woodpeckers to maintain
a significant silence, and the lizard to be conscience-stricken into
stone.

An examination of the manuscript, however, corrected this injustice to
defenceless nature. It was evidently of human origin,--being verse,
and of exceeding bad quality. The editor laid it aside. As he did so he
thought he saw a face at the window. Sallying out in some indignation,
he penetrated the surrounding thicket in every direction, but his search
was as fruitless as before. The poet, if it were he, was gone.

A few days after this the editorial seclusion was invaded by voices of
alternate expostulation and entreaty. Stepping to the door, the editor
was amazed at beholding Mr. Morgan McCorkle, a well-known citizen of
Angelo, and a subscriber to the "Record," in the act of urging, partly
by force and partly by argument, an awkward young man toward the
building. When he had finally effected his object, and, as it were,
safely landed his prize in a chair, Mr. McCorkle took off his hat,
carefully wiped the narrow isthmus of forehead which divided his black
brows from his stubby hair, and with an explanatory wave of his hand
toward his reluctant companion, said, "A borned poet, and the cussedest
fool you ever seed!"

Accepting the editor's smile as a recognition of the introduction, Mr.
McCorkle panted and went on: "Didn't want to come! 'Mister Editor don't
went to