turned quickly, the hunger of a press-ridden people in his close-set iron-
grey eyes.

"Have you any use for papers?" said the visitor.

"Have I any use?" A quick, curved forefinger was already snicking off the
outer covers. "Why, that's the New York postmark! Give me the ads. at the
back of _Harper's_ and _M'Clure's_ and I'm in touch with God's Country
again! Did you know how I was aching for papers?"

The visitor told the tale of the casual postman.

"Providential!" said the ginger-coloured man, keen as a terrier on his
task; "both in time and matter. Yes! ... The _Scientific American_ yet
once more! Oh, it's good! it's good!" His voice broke as he pressed his
hawk-like nose against the heavily-inked patent-specifications at the end.
"Can I keep it? I thank you--I thank you! Why--why--well--well! The
_American Tyler_ of all things created! Do you subscribe to that?"

"I'm on the free list," said the visitor, nodding.

He extended his blue-tanned hand with that air of Oriental spaciousness
which distinguishes the native-born American, and met the visitor's grasp
expertly. "I can only say that you have treated me like a Brother (yes,
I'll take every last one you can spare), and if ever--" He plucked at the
bosom of his shirt. "Psha! I forgot I'd no card on me; but my name's
Zigler--Laughton G. Zigler. An American? If Ohio's still in the Union, I
am, Sir. But I'm no extreme States'-rights man. I've used all of my native
country and a few others as I have found occasion, and now I am the
captive of your bow and spear. I'm not kicking at that. I am not a coerced