There was a good deal
of summer lightning blinking overhead, and the black avenues and white
statues leapt out every minute into short-lived distinctness.
II.
My dear Colvin,---Any time between eight and half-past nine in the
morning, a slender gentleman in an ulster, with a volume buttoned into
the breast of it, may be observed leaving No. 608 Bush and descending
Powell with an active step. The gentleman is R. L. S.; the volume
relates to Benjamin Franklin, on whom he meditates one of his charming
essays. He descends Powell, crosses Market, and descends in Sixth on
a branch of the original Pine Street Coffee House, no less;
I believe he would be capable of going to the original itself,
if he could only find it. In the branch he seats himself
at a table covered with waxcloth, and a pampered menial, of high
Dutch extraction and, indeed, as yet only partially extracted,
lays before him a cup of coffee, a roll, and a pat of butter, all,
to quote the deity, very good. Awhile ago, and H. L. S. used to find
the supply of butter insufficient; but he has now learned the art to
exactitude, and butter and roll expire at the same moment.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204