, rather slight of figure, with
strongly marked features and an aquiline nose. He seemed clever rather
than forcible, and presented a pathetic figure as of one who had gained
no foothold on success. He had a very pleasant voice and a modest
manner, and never talked of himself. He was always the gentleman,
exemplary as to habits, courteous and good-natured, but a trifle
aristocratic in bearing. He was dressed in good taste, but was evidently
in need of income. He was willing to do anything, but with little
ability to help himself. He was simply untrained for doing anything that
needed doing in that community.

He found occasional work in the drugstore, and for a time he had a small
private school. His surviving pupils speak warmly of his sympathy and
kindness. He had little mechanical ability. I recall seeing him try to
build a fence one morning. He bravely dug postholes, but they were
pretty poor, and the completed fence was not so very straight. He was
genial and uncomplaining, and he made a few good friends. He was an
agreeable guest, and at our house was fond of a game of whist. He was
often facetious, with a neatness that was characteristic. One day, on a
stroll, we passed a very primitive new house that was wholly destitute
of all ornaments or trimming, even without eaves. It seemed modeled
after a packing-box. "That," he remarked, "must be of the _Iowan_ order
of architecture."

He was given to teasing, and could be a little malicious. A proud and
ambitious schoolteacher had married a well-off but decidedly Cockney
Englishman, whose aspirates could be relied upon to do the expected.
Soon after the wedding, Harte called and cleverly steered the
conversation on to music and songs, finally expressing great fondness
for "Kathleen Mavourneen," but professing to have forgotten the words.
The bridegroom swallowed the bait with avidity. "Why," said he, "they
begin with 'The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill.'" F.B.
stroked his Dundrearies while his dark eyes twinkled. The bride's eyes
flashed ominously, but there seemed to be nothing she felt like saying.

In October, 1857, he removed to the Liscom ranch in the suburbs at the
head of the bay and became the tutor of two boys, fourteen and thirteen
years of age. He had a forenoon session of school and in the afternoon
enjoyed hunting on the adjacent marshes. For his convenience in keeping
run of the lessons given, he kept a brief diary, and it has lately been
found