“Why mourn?” he asked. “Why mope? Why fear a poet? Fight fire with fire; fight poetry with poetry! Why knuckle down to a little amateur poet when Perkins & Co. have a professional poet working six days a week? Use Biggs.” He said “Use Biggs” just as he would have said “Use Codliver Capsules.” It was Perkins's way to go right to the heart of things without wasting words. He talked in telegrams. He talked in caps, double leaded. I grasped his hand, for I saw his meaning. I was saved--or at least Kate was nailed. The expression is Perkins's. “Kate--hate, Kate--wait, Kate--mate,” he said, glowingly. “Good rhymes. Biggs can do the rest. We will nail Kate with poems. Biggs,” he said, turning to our poet, “make some nails.” Biggs was a serious-minded youth, with a large, bulgy forehead in front, and a large bald spot at the back of his head, which seemed to be yearning to join the forehead. He was the most conceited donkey I ever knew, but he did good poetry. I can't say that he ever did anything as noble as,-- “Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster Makes all pains and aches fly faster,” but that was written by the immortal Perkins himself. It was Biggs who wrote the charming verse,-- “When corpuscles are thin and white, Codliver Capsules set them right,” and that other great hit,-- “When appetite begins to fail And petty woes unnerve us, When joy is fled and life is stale, The Pink Capsules preserve us. “When doubts and cares distress the mind And daily duties bore us, At fifty cents per box we find The Pink Capsules restore us.” You can see that an amateur poet who wrote such rot as the following to Kate would not be in the same class whatever:-- TO KATE “Your lips are like cherries All sprinkled with dew; Your eyes are like diamonds, Sparkling and true. “Your teeth are like pearls in A casket of roses, And nature has found you The dearest of noses.” I had Kate copy that for me, and I gave it to Biggs to let him see what he would have to beat. He looked at it and smiled. He flipped over the pages of “Munton's Magazine,” dipped his pen in the ink, and in two minutes handed me this:-- TO KATE “Your lips are like Lowney's Bonbons, they're so sweet; Your eyes shine like pans That Pearline has made neat. “Your teeth are like Ivory Soap, they're so white, And your nose, like Pink Capsules, Is simply all right!” I showed it to Perkins, and asked him how he thought it would do. He read it over and shook his head. “O. K.,” he said, “except Ivory Soap for teeth. Don't like the idea. Suggests Kate may be foaming at the mouth next. Cut it out and say:-- “'Your soul is like Ivory Soap, it's so white.'”