an idea of Mr. Smith's style:--

_i was one trip to van demens
land_

To which the seamstress replied:--

_It must have been very interesting._

But Mr. Smith disposed of this subject very briefly:--

_it wornt_

Further he vouchsafed:--

_i seen a Chinese cook in
hong kong could cook flapjacks
like your mother_

_a mishnery that sells Rum
is the menest of Gods crechers_

_a bulfite is not what it is
cract up to Be_

_the dagos are wussen the
brutes_

_i am 6 1-3/4
but my Father was 6 foot 4_

The seamstress had taught school one winter, and she could not refrain
from making an attempt to reform Mr. Smith's orthography. One evening,
in answer to this communication,--

_i killd a Bare in Maine 600
lbs waight_

she wrote:--

_Isn't it generally spelled Bear?_

but she gave up the attempt when he responded:--

_a bare is a mene animle any
way you spel him_

The spring wore on, and the summer came, and still the evening drink and
the evening correspondence brightened the close of each day for the
little seamstress. And the draught of porter put her to sleep each
night, giving her a calmer rest than she had ever known during her stay
in the noisy city; and it began, moreover, to make a little "meet" for
her. And then the thought that she was going to have an hour of pleasant
companionship somehow gave her courage to cook and eat her little
dinner, however tired she was. The seamstress's cheeks began to blossom
with the June roses.

And all this time Mr. Smith kept his vow of silence unbroken, though the
seamstress sometimes tempted him with little ejaculations and
exclamations to which he might have responded. He was silent and
invisible. Only the smoke of his pipe, and the clink of his mug as he
set it down on the cornice, told her that a living, material Smith was
her correspondent. They never met on the stairs, for their hours of
coming and going did not coincide. Once or twice they passed each other
in the street--but Mr. Smith looked straight ahead of him about a foot
over her head. The little seamstress thought he was a very fine-looking
man, with his six feet one and three-quarters and his thick brown beard.
Most people would have called him plain.

Once she spoke to him. She was coming home one summer evening, and a
gang of corner-loafers stopped her and demanded money to buy beer, as is
their custom. Be