with this he could go up to Harlem, or
wherever else the maiden lived, and carry consternation into the hearts
of his rivals by spouting the sonnet as nonchalantly as though he had
just thought of it. So it would go on. For the following call he could
borrow a ballad singing the glories of her raven locks, likening them to
the beautiful night, or, if the locks were red instead of black, to the
aurora borealis."

"You'd have trouble finding a rhyme to borealis," said the Poet.

"Tutt!" said the Idiot. "What's the matter with 'Glory, Alice,' 'Listen
to my story, Alice,' 'I'm going to war so gory, Alice,' 'I fear you are
a Tory, Alice' (this for a Revolutionary poem), or 'Come rowing in my
dory, Alice'? There's no end to 'em."

"If you'll write a rhyming dictionary I'll buy a copy," was the Poet's
sole comment.

"That will come later," said the Idiot. "Once get our clearing-house
established, we can branch out into a general Poetry Trust and Supply
Company that will make millions. We'll make so much money, by Jove!" he
added, slapping the table enthusiastically, "that we can afford to go
into the publishing business ourselves and bring out volumes of verse
for anybody and everybody. We can deal in Fame! A man that couldn't
write his own name so that anybody could read it could come to us and
say: 'Gentlemen, I've got everything but brains. I want to be an author
and 'mongst the authors stand. I am told it is delightful to see one's
book in print. I haven't a book, but I've got a dollar or two, and if
you'll put out a first-class book of poems under my name I'll pay all
expenses and give you a royalty of twenty per cent. on every copy I give
away!' No money in it? Bah! You gentlemen don't know. If you say fortune
would not wait upon this venture _I_ say you are the kind of men who
would sell government bonds for their value as mere engravings if you
had the chance."

"You certainly do draw a roseate picture," said Mr. Whitechoker.

"I do indeed," said the Idiot, "and the paint is laid on thick."

"Well, I hope it goes," said the Poet. "I'll make a deposit the first
day of three hundred and sixty-seven ballads, four hundred and
twenty-three couplets, eighty-nine rondeaus, and one epic about ten
yards in length, all of which I have in my desk at this moment."

"Very well," said the Idiot, rising, "With that encouragement from you I
feel warranted in ordering the 'Not Good' stamp at least."

X

Some Electric