among the Berkshire Hills
A gentleman with whom I should be well acquainted used to carry in his pocket two scraps cut within a fortnight from two metropolitan newspapers, the one describing him as a man without a gray hair in his head, and the other as a man possessing a remarkably fine head of snow-white locks.
Should his biography ever be written, it is a matter of chance which description will come into the record as the unimpeachable testimony of an eye-witness.
Even as this is written, the present writer turns to a newspaper column of personals, and finds that he is just returning from a place which he has never visited to another place where he has no intention of going.
So constant is this sort of thing that he can lay his hand on his heart and testify that, to the best of his knowledge and belief, the majority of statements that are made about him in the newspapers are not only erroneous as to details, but are made out of the whole cloth.
On inquiry he finds it to be just the same with all his neighbors.
The same witness already quoted receives frequently a cutting from different newspapers recently published, describing him as taking “a daily spin” on a tricycle to certain designated towns, with his