_I lived in a small village before I came to New York, but I am afraid I do not know much about farming. Are you a farmer?_ The answer came: _have ben most Every thing farmed a Spel in Maine Smith_ As she read this, the seamstress heard a church clock strike nine. “Bless me, is it so late?” she cried, and she hurriedly penciled _Good Night_, thrust the paper out, and closed the window. But a few minutes later, passing by, she saw yet another bit of paper on the cornice, fluttering in the evening breeze. It said only _good nite_, and after a moment’s hesitation, the little seamstress took it in and gave it shelter. * * * * * After this, they were the best of friends. Every evening the pot appeared, and while the seamstress drank from it at her window, Mr. Smith drank from its twin at his; and notes were exchanged as rapidly as Mr. Smith’s early education permitted. They told each other their histories, and Mr. Smith’s was one of travel and variety, which he seemed to consider quite a matter of course. He had followed the sea, he had farmed, he had been a logger and a hunter in the Maine woods. Now he was foreman of an East River lumber yard, and he was prospering. In a year or two he would have enough laid by to go home to Bucksport and buy a share in a ship-building business. All this dribbled out in the course of a jerky but variegated correspondence, in which autobiographic details were mixed with reflections, moral and philosophical. A few samples will give an idea of Mr. Smith’s style: _i was one trip to van demens land_ To which the seamstress replied: _It must have been very interesting._ But Mr. Smith disposed of this subject very briefly: _it wornt_ Further he vouchsafed: _i seen a Chinese cook in hong kong could cook flap jacks like your Mother_ _a mishnery that sells Rum is the menest of Gods crechers_ _a bulfite is not what it is cract up to Be_ _the dagos are wussen the brutes_ _i am 6 1¾ but my Father was 6 foot 4_ The seamstress had taught school one Winter, and she could not refrain from making an attempt to reform Mr. Smith’s orthography. One evening, in answer to this communication: _i killd a Bare in Maine 600 lbs waight_ she wrote: _Isn’t it generally spelled Bear?_ but she gave up the attempt when he responded: _a bare is a mene animle any way you spel him_