"That would make a good story," he declared. "I think I'll write that up--I'd have all the babies dying and the mothers fainting and an accident just barely averted by a little girl waving a red shawl, see--while the Argand car dashed by with a party eating and drinking and throwing champagne-bottles out of the window. But I've got to go and see the Mayor to ascertain why he appointed the new city comptroller, and then I've got to drop by the theatre and give the new play a roast--so I'll hardly have time to roast those Argands and Leighs, though I'd like to do it to teach them not to refuse me round-trip passes next time I ask for them. I tell you what you do," he added, modestly, "you write it up--you say you have written for the press?" "Oh! yes, very often--and for the magazines. I have had stories published in----" "Well, that's all right." (Kalender was not a good listener.) "I'll look it over and touch it up--put the fire in it and polish it off. You write it up, say--about a column. I can cut it down all right--and I'll call by here for it about eleven, after the theatre." It was a cool request--coolly made; but I was fool enough to accede to it. I felt much aggrieved over the treatment of us by the railway company, and was not sorry to air my grievance at the same time that I secured a possible opening. I accordingly spent all the afternoon writing my account of the inconvenience and distress occasioned the travelling public by the inconsiderateness of the railway management, discussing, by the way, the fundamental principle of ownership in quasi-public corporations, and showing that all rights which they claimed were derived from the people. I mentioned no names and veiled my allusions; but I paid a tribute to the kind heart of the Angel of Mercy who succored the children. I spent some hours at my composition and took much pride in it when completed. Then, as I had not been out at all to see the town, I addressed the envelope in which I had placed my story to Mr. Kalender, and leaving it for him, walked out into the wilderness. On my return the paper was gone.