she explained later in
good faith, the words just seemed to _come to_ her;--doubtless with
either genius or some form of miracle implied; for sources of
inspiration are seldom recognized by inspired writers themselves. She
had not long ago been party to a musical Sunday afternoon at her
Great-Uncle Joseph's house, where Mr. Clairdyce sang some of his songs
again and again, and her poem may have begun to coagulate within her
then.

THE ORGANEST

BY FLORENCE ATWATER

The organest was seated at his organ in a church,
In some beautiful woods of maple and birch,
He was very weary while he played upon the keys,
But he was a great organest and always played with ease,
When the soul is weary,
And the wind is dreary,
I would like to be an organest seated all day at the organ,
Whether my name might be Fairchild or Morgan,
I would play music like a vast amen,
The way it sounds in a church of men.

Florence read her poem seven or eight times, the deepening pleasure of
her expression being evidence that repetition failed to denature this
work, but on the contrary, enhanced an appreciative surprise at its
singular merit. Finally she folded the sheet of paper with a delicate
carefulness unusual to her, and placed it in her skirt pocket; then she
went downstairs and out into the back yard. Her next action was
straightforward and anything but prudish; she climbed the high wooden
fences, one after the other, until she came to a pause at the top of
that whereon the two journalists had lately made themselves so odiously
impressive.

Before her, if she had but taken note of them, were a lesson in history
and the markings of a profound transition in human evolution. Beside the
old frame stable was a little brick garage, obviously put to the daily
use intended by its designer. Quite as obviously the stable was
obsolete; anybody would have known from its outside that there was no
horse within it. There, visible, was the end of the pastoral age.

All this was lost upon Florence. She sat upon the fence, her gaze
unfavourably though wistfully fixed upon a sign of no special aesthetic
merit above the stable door.

THE NORTH END DAILY ORIOLE
ATWATER & ROOTER OWNERS &
PROPREITORS SUBSCRIBE NOW 25 CENTS

The inconsistency of the word "daily" did not trouble Florence;
moreover, she had found no faul