_When the fat-legged mantees mutter And you see their eyeballs twitch; When the parlor wobblies hover Around the newly rich, And the men of bread-and-butter Get the "art-for-art's-sake" itch...._ _Then I don't regret the making Of this idle verse of mine, And my pickling by the Poohbahs In their literary brine, Nor the gesture of a Burdash For not hewing to the line._ _My humor is the laughter From life's tickled ribs. It's rough, For it's written from the raw Where I like to get my stuff, And it ought to rise in letters: Goodness knows it's light enough._ "It is nothing to be ashamed of," said Dan Spain, "I once worked in a slaughter house." "What books have you had published?" I asked after a time. "None." Having had a number of books published myself, I felt that I might be of some service to this hermit scholar who had evidently not adjusted himself to the practical exigencies of the publishing business. "It is just possible," I suggested, "that my experiences and acquaintances might enable me to help you get some of your work in print--that is, if you would care to tell me what you are writing." Dan Spain leaned over and attended the fire. After poking it to his satisfaction, he picked up a live coal and dropped it in the bowl of his pipe. Finally he spoke, and his words were startling enough. "Just at present," he said, "I am writing an autobiography of God." There was a sudden rattle at the shutter. "What was that?" I asked nervously. Dan Spain laughed. "Wind," he replied, "wind through the trees. Lightning may strike us dead at any moment because of my blasphemous ambitions. That is why I live as a hermit--should God's lightning strike at me, there will be no complications through it hitting an innocent bystander. You are the first person who has spent a night under this roof with me. I am sorry to subject you to the danger, but you came without an invitation." "But why," I asked, "do you want to write a blasphemous book? You are aware, I suppose, that it might be suppressed." "In a country, the constitution of which guarantees freedom of speech and religious liberty, I grant the possibility." "Then why," I persisted, "do you want to write it?"