One night, after having suffered a disappointment for the fifth time in the matter of Plausaby and money, he was walking down the road to cool his anger in the night air, when he met the Inhabitant of the Lone Cabin, again.
"Well, Gray," he said, "how are you?
Have you written any fresh verses lately ?" "Varses?
See here, Mr.Charlton, do you 'low this 'ere's a time fer varses ?" "Why not ?" "_To_ be shore! Why not?
I should kinder think yer own heart should orter tell you.

You don' know what I'm made of.

You think I a'n't good fer nothin' but varses.

Now, Mr.Charlton, I'm not one of them air fellers as lets theirselves all off in varses that don' mean nothin'.

What my pomes says, that my heart feels.