Kansas University Weekly.
111
Literary.
Wool-Gathering.
BEING AN ACCOUNT OF HOW THE OLD MAN WAS TAKEN IN.
Ever since his unexpected entrance on that cold December night, the Old Man has remained a mystery to us. He has come and gone as regularly as clock work; but never a word has escaped his lips in our presence, and he has always stayed at his place beside the fire until we have all gone out.
The night after our discussion of poetry, I went up to the Roost rather earlier than usual. The place was quiet and comfortable, and I decided to sit down and finish up an account of the discussion of the evening before. As I was pulling my chair up to the table, my eye fell upon an envelope bearing the inscription of an Eastern publishing house. "Now," thought I, "Now, I have caught you this time, Mr. Grubb." I tore it open, thinking that I would find a very polite letter to my friend the author, sorrowfully but positively refusing some manuscript he had sent them.
But it was not "Dear Mr. Grubb," that first greeted my eyes. Instead, it was addressed to the person whom we called the Old Man, by a name much more familiar to the public, and which I am in duty bound to withhold from publication. The letter was made up as follows:
"Mr. Dear Sir. Your inquiry for an unexpurgated edition of Mrs. Heman's poems, came to hand yesterday. We beg leave to inform you that the high position Mrs. Heman's poems once held has been usurped by works of more recent date; and as we have cleared our shelves of such works as Mrs. Heman's to give room to our increasing stock of more popular books, we regret to state that we are unable to furnish the copy you desire. In looking over our catalogue, I find no edition marked 'unexpurgated,' and conclude that such editions are out of print.
"We have in stock however, some choice works, of which is enclosed a list. In making selections bear in mind that we give a large discount from list prices, andetc."
A new light dawned upon me. On the evening before, we had all been trying to incite in Two-Step a love for literature; and as his preference was on the side of poetry, Grubb had facetiously recommended Mrs. Heman's poems. He remarked, with a wink to the rest of us, that an unexpurgated edition was especially valuable, and the most delightful reading in the land. We expected soon to hear Two-Step's report of his search for the book; but this letter, come so unexpectedly into my hands, was a result even better than we expected, and the best of it was that the Old Man had fallen into the trap. All those evenings we had supposed him to be sound asleep, he had doubtless been sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to what was going on.
When Booth and Daub came in, I told them of my find, and we resolved to keep a close watch on the Old Man, and see how he took the loss of his letter.
About nine o'clock the Old Man entered as usual and proceeded to his chair. Evidently he had not discovered his loss, for he payed us no attention whatever. We were somewhat disconcerted by the miscarriage of our plans, but a happy thought struck Daub, and motioning me to watch the Old Man, said to Two-Step, "Say! did you ever find that book we were talking about the other evening?"
"What book?" asked Two-Step.
“Mrs. Heman's poems."
I thought I saw the Old Man start.
"Why, no, I can't say that I found the one you spoke of. I asked the Librarian for an unexpurgated edition, but she evidently didn't understand. The one she gave me had nothing in it but Sunday-School poetry, and a lot of other stuff about affections and that sort of thing. I didn't read it, it looked too pious."
"Why don't you write to some Eastern publisher and get a good edition? Rare books are something to be proud of, and I am sure there can be nothing rarer or more precious than