stalment, and then faded from the scene and
neither he nor his verses have been heard from since. The consequence
has been that when any of the young of this community show the
slightest signs of poetic genius their parents behave as though the
measles had broken out in the family, and do all they can spiritually
and physically to stamp out the symptoms. My cousin Aminidab indeed
went so far while he was in the Legislature here, to introduce a bill
making the writing of poetry a misdemeanor, and ordering the police
immediately to arrest all persons caught giving way in public or
private to an inspiration. The bill only failed to become a law by the
expiration of the session before it had reached its final reading. It
may be readily imagined, therefore, why until this I have never
acknowledged my own proneness to expressing myself in verse. Only two
or three of my most intimate friends have been aware of the tendency,
and they have been so ashamed of it that as my friends they have
sought rather to suppress than to spread the report.

I quite remember the consternation with which my first effort was
received in the family. Father Adam had been reminiscing about the
Garden Days, and he had made the remark that when some of the animals
came up to be christened they were such extraordinary looking
creatures he was afraid they were imaginary.

"Take the Ornithorhyncus, for instance," he said, "and the Discosaurus
Carnegii--why, when they came ambling up for their tickets I could
hardly believe my eyes, and I turned to Eve and asked her with real
anxiety, whether or not she saw anything, and, of course, her answer
reassured me, but for a minute I was afraid that the grape-juice we
had had for lunch was up to its old tricks."

This anecdote amused me tremendously, for I had myself thought the
Discosaurus about the funniest looking beast except the shad, I had
ever seen, and I promptly constructed a limerick which I handed over
to my father. It ran this way:

There was an old fellow named Adam,
Who lived in the Garden with Madam.
When the critters they came
All demanding a name
He thought for a minute he "had 'em!"

I don't think I shall ever forget the result of my father's horrified
reading of the lines. All my grandfathers back to Adam himself were
there, and wrath, fear, and consternation were depicted on every
countenance when the last line was delivered, and then every eye was
turned on me.