Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-07-19
Mistellanu.
From the Atlantic Monthly for July.
The Poet of Sierra Flat.
BY BRET HARTE.

for his weeks paper, he could not help
hearing the woodpeckers who were busy
on the roof above his head. 1t occurred
10 him that possibly the birds had not yet
learned to recognize in the rude structure
any Improvement on nature, and this idea
pleased him 50 much that he incorporated
il in an editorial article which he was
then dOubIy composing. For the editor
was also printer of the Record and al.
though that remarkable journal was reput-
ed to exert a power felt through all Gala
veras and il greater part Of Toulumne
County, strict economy was one Of the
conditions Of its benefccnt existence.
Thus preoccupied he was startled By
a sudden irruption Of small roll Of man
uscript which was thrown through the
open door and fell at his feet. He walked
quickly to the threshold and looked down
the tangled trail which led 10 the high
road. But there was nothing to suggest
thc presence Of his mysterious contributor
4 hare limped slowly away, a greenland
gold lizard paused upon a pine stump,
die wOodpcckers ceased their work. So
complete had been his sylvan secusion,
that he found it difficult to connect any
human agency with the act rather the
hare seemed to have an ineXpressibly gull
81 look, the wOodpeckers to maintain a
significant silence, and the lizard to be
c0H-cicnce-stricken into stone
An examination of the manuscript,
however, corrected this injustice to de-
feHscicss nature Ii was evidently Of hu-
man origin.-bcing verse, and of exceed
iug bad quality. The editor laid 1t aside
As he did so he thought he saw face at
tile window. SalIying out in some indig-
nation, he penetrated the surrounding
thickct in every direction, but his search
was as lruitess as before The poet, if it
were he, was gone.
\ few days after this, the editorial Sc
e.usion was invaded by voices of alternate
ezpostuation and entreaty. Stepping to
the door, the editor was amazed at be-
holding Mr.. Morgan McCorkle, a well
known citizen Of Angelo, and subscriber
70 the Record, in the act Of urging, partly
ay force and partly by argument. an awk-
ward young man toward the building
When he had finally effected his object,
and, as it were, safely landed his prize in
chair. Mr. McCorkle took off his hat,
eareiully wiped the narrow isthmus Of his
forehead which divided his black brows
from his stubby hair, and, with an explain
at1ry wave Of mis- hand toward his reluct-
amt companion, said \ borncd poet
4nI the cussedest fool you ever seed -
Accepting the editors smile as a recog-
milton Of the Introduction, Mr.. McCorkle
painted and went on Didn't want to
come, Mister Editor don't want to see
| L. l..
a borned poet like you and gifted genius
The be oughter come together sociable =
And | fetched him. All. will yer p The
born poet bad, after exhibiting signs Of
great distress, started TO run. But Mr..
NeCorkie was down upon him instantly,
sczng him By his long linen coat and set
tIel him hack in his chair &" Taint no use
-,amre ling. Yer We are and ye stays. For
vera borued poet-cf yc are as shy as a
iarkass rabbit Look at i'm now ~
H. certainly was not an attractive pie
mre. There was hardly notable feature
n hi, weak face, except his eyes, which
were moist aud shy, and not unlike the
animal TO which Mr. McCorkle had com
pared him. II was the face that the edl-
tor had seen at the window.
knowed him for fower year-since
be war a boy continued Mr.. McCOrkle,
in loud whisper. Alters the same,
bless You, Can jerk a rhyme as easy as
turuiu Jack. Never had any eddication
lived out in Ni-sooary all his life. But
he's chock luIl o. poetry. On'y this morn
in' sez to him-hc camps along o me
Ni.t.' says /, are breakfast ready 2 and
he up and answers back quite peart and
clipper. The breakfast 1t is ready, and
the birds Is singin' free, and it's rsin' IN
the dawniu light is happiness to me-
Whom a man. said Mr.. McCorkle, drop
ping his voice with deep solemnity, gets
off things like them, without any call to
20 It, and handlin flPjacks over cook
stove at the same timc-that mans
borued poet"
There was an awkward pause. Mr.. Nc
Corklc bcamed patronizingly on his pro-
tcre The born poet looked as if he were
mcditating another flight, not metaphor
zeal one. The editor asked If he could 10
anything for them.
In course you can, responded Mr..
McCorklc, that's Jest if. Mit, where's
that poetry r.
The editors countenance fell as the
poet produced from his pocket roll of
manuscript lie, however, took it me-
chauicaly, and glanced over it. 1t was
evidently a duplicate of the former mys-
tcrious contribution.
The editor then spoke briefly, but earn
estly. | regret that l lcannot recall his
exact words, but it appeared that never
before, in the history Of the Record, had
the pressure been so great upon its col
umns. Matters of paramount Importance,
deeply affecting the progress Of the Sierra
questions touching the absolute integrity
of Calavcras and Tuolumne as social com
muntics. were even now waiting express
ion. Weeks, nay, months, must elapse
before that pressure would be removed, ,and
the Record could grapple with any but
the sternest Of topics. Again. the editor
had noticed, with pain, the decline Of poe
try in the foot bills of the Sierras. Even
the works of Byron and Moore attracted
no attention in Dutch Flat, and a preju-
dice seemed to exist against TenDyson IN
Grass Valley. But the editor was not
without hope for the future. In the course
Of four or five years, when the country
was settled.
What would be the cost to print this
yer?" interrupted Mr. McCOrkle, quietly.
About fifty dollars as an advertise
ment,' responded the editor, with cheerful
alacrity.
Mr. McCorkle placed the sum in the
elitor's hand. " Yer see thet's what | sez
to Milt, Milt,' sez l, pay as yer go. for
you are borned poet. Hevin' no call to
write, but doin it free and spontaneous
like, in course you pays. Thet's why Mr..