from the popgun, I feel quite certain.

The Master went on after he had had out his laugh.--There is one thing
I am His Imperial Majesty about, and that is my likes and dislikes.
What if I do like your verses,--you can't help yourself. I don't doubt
somebody or other hates 'em and hates you and everything you do, or ever
did, or ever can do. He is all right; there is nothing you or I like
that somebody does n't hate. Was there ever anything wholesome that was
not poison to somebody? If you hate honey or cheese, or the products
of the dairy,--I know a family a good many of whose members can't touch
milk, butter, cheese, and the like, why, say so, but don't find fault
with the bees and the cows. Some are afraid of roses, and I have known
those who thought a pond-lily a disagreeable neighbor. That Boy will
give you the metaphysics of likes and dislikes. Look here,--you young
philosopher over there,--do you like candy?

That Boy.--You bet! Give me a stick and see if I don't.

And can you tell me why you like candy?

That Boy.--Because I do.

--There, now, that is the whole matter in a nutshell. Why do your teeth
like crackling crust, and your organs of taste like spongy crumb,
and your digestive contrivances take kindly to bread rather than
toadstools--

That Boy (thinking he was still being catechised).--Because they do.

Whereupon the Landlady said, Sh! and the Young Girl laughed, and the
Lady smiled; and Dr. Ben Franklin kicked him, moderately, under the
table, and the Astronomer looked up at the ceiling to see what had
happened, and the Member of the Haouse cried, Order! Order! and the
Salesman said, Shut up, cash-boy! and the rest of the boarders kept on
feeding; except the Master, who looked very hard but half approvingly
at the small intruder, who had come about as nearly right as most
professors would have done.

--You poets,--the Master said after this excitement had calmed down,
--you poets have one thing about you that is odd. You talk about
everything as if you knew more about it than the people whose business
it is to know all about it. I suppose you do a little of what we
teachers used to call "cramming" now and then?

--If you like your breakfast you must n't ask the cook too many
questions,--I answered.

--Oh, come now, don't be afraid of letting out your secrets. I have
a notion I can tell a poet that gets himself up just as I can tell a
make-believe old man on the stage by the line where the