As to anything this side of New England, I won’t “either apologize or fight.” This part is not remote and precarious memory of the only true Golden Age—the Age when we Haven’t Any—but the indelible autograph of thirty older years, scarred and wrinkled upon me inside and out. It can take care of itself.
Most of these stories, in both instances, are of episodes in which I had some part. Not all are “True Stories,” but all are truthful. I hope that makes them no duller than if they had been guessed out of whole cloth and innocence.
C. F. L.
Los Angeles, Cal.
The Enchanted Burro.
The Enchanted Burro.
