J. W. himself. You know what that means to a magazine. I won't tell you what I had to pay for that poem; but I'll tell you this - Riley can make more money writing with a fountain-pen than you or I can with one that lets the ink run. I'll read you the last two stanzas:

    

    "'Pa lays around 'n' loafs all day,

    'N' reads and makes us leave him be.

    He lets me do just like I please,

    'N' when I'm bad he laughs at me,

    'N' when I holler loud 'n' say

    Bad words 'n' then begin to tease

    The cat, 'n' pa just smiles, ma's mad

    'N' gives me Jesse crost her knees.

    I always wondered why that wuz -

    I guess it's cause

    Pa never does. "''N' after all the lights are out

    I'm sorry 'bout it; so I creep

    Out of my trundle bed to ma's

    'N' say I love her a whole heap,

    'N' kiss her, 'n' I hug her tight.

    'N' it's too dark to see her eyes,

    But every time I do I know

    She cries 'n' cries 'n' cries 'n' cries.

    I always wondered why that wuz -

    I guess it's 'cause

    Pa never does.'

    

    "That's the stuff," continued Thacker. "What do you think of that?"

    "I am not unfamiliar with the works of Mr. Riley," said the colonel, deliberately. "I believe he lives in Indiana. For the last ten years I have been somewhat of a literary recluse, and am familiar with nearly all the books in the Cedar Heights library. I am also of the opinion that a magazine should contain a certain amount of poetry. Many of the sweetest singers of the South have already contributed to the pages of The Rose of Dixie. I, myself, have thought of translating from the original for publication in its pages the works of the great Italian poet Tasso. Have you ever drunk from the fountain of this immortal poet's lines, Mr. Thacker?"

    "Not even a demi-Tasso," said Thacker.