and "The Pliocene Skull" belong to this period.

In the "Condensed Novels" Harte surpassed all parodists. With clever
burlesque, there was both appreciation and subtle criticism. As
Chesterton says, "Bret Harte's humor was sympathetic and analytical. The
wild, sky-breaking humor of America has its fine qualities, but it must
in the nature of things be deficient in two qualities--reverence and
sympathy--and these two qualities were knit into the closest texture of
Bret Harte's humor."

At this time Harte lived a quiet domestic life. He wrote steadily. He
loved to write, but he was also obliged to. Literature is not an
overgenerous paymaster, and with a growing family expenses tend to
increase in a larger ratio than income.

Harte's sketches based on early experiences are interesting and
amusing. His life in Oakland was in many ways pleasant, but he evidently
retained some memories that made him enjoy indulging in a sly dig many
years after. He gives the pretended result of scientific investigation
made in the far-off future as to the great earthquake that totally
engulfed San Francisco. The escape of Oakland seemed inexplicable, but a
celebrated German geologist ventured to explain the phenomenon by
suggesting that "there are some things that the earth cannot swallow."

My last recollection of Harte, of a purely personal nature, was of an
occurrence in 1866, when he was dramatic critic of the _Morning Call_ at
the time I was doing a little reporting on the same paper. It happened
that a benefit was arranged for some charity. "Nan, the
Good-for-Nothing," was to be given by a number of amateurs. The _Nan_
asked me to play _Tom_, and I had insufficient firmness to decline.