ff future as to the great earthquake that totally
engulfed San Francisco. The escape of Oakland seemed inexplicable, but a
celebrated German geologist ventured to explain the phenomenon by
suggesting that "there are some things that the earth cannot swallow."

My last recollection of Harte, of a purely personal nature, was of an
occurrence in 1866, when he was dramatic critic of the _Morning Call_ at
the time I was doing a little reporting on the same paper. It happened
that a benefit was arranged for some charity. "Nan, the
Good-for-Nothing," was to be given by a number of amateurs. The _Nan_
asked me to play _Tom_, and I had insufficient firmness to decline.
After the play, when my face was reasonably clean, I dropped into the
_Call_ office, yearning for a word of commendation from Harte. I thought
he knew that I had taken the part, but he would not give me the
satisfaction of referring to it. Finally I mentioned, casually like,
that I was _Tom_, whereat he feigned surprise, and remarked in his
pleasant voice, "Was that you? I thought they had sent to some theater
and hired a supe."

In July, 1868, A. Roman & Co. launched the _Overland Monthly_, with
Harte as editor. He took up the work with eager interest. He named the
child, planned its every feature, and chose his contributors. It was a
handsome publication, modeled, in a way, on the _Atlantic Monthly,_ but
with a flavor and a character all its own. The first number was
attractive and readable, with articles of varied interest by Mark Twain,
Noah Brooks, Charles Warren Stoddard, William C. Bartlett, T.H. Rearden,
Ina Coolbrith, and others--a brilliant galaxy for any period. Harte
contributed "San Francisco from the Sea."

Mark Twain, long after, alluding to this period in his life, pays this
characteristic acknowledgment: "Bret Harte trimmed and trained and
schooled me patiently until he changed me from an awkward utterer of
coarse grotesqueness to a writer of paragraphs and chapters that have
found favor in the eyes of even some of the decentest people in the
land."

The first issue of the _Overland_ was well received, but the second
sounded a note heard round the world. The editor contributed a
story--"The Luck of Roaring Camp"--that was hailed as a new venture in
literature. It was so revolutionary that it shocked an estimable
proofreader, and she sounded the alarm. The publishers were timid, but
the gentle editor was firm. When it was found that it must go