Dear Joe, Today I made a pie. It was a wond'rous pie! (Now you must take my word for it, It really is no lie). The filling first I stirred around, With sugar and with spice. (The recipe it called for milk, I substituted ice). Cloves, cinnamon and salt I put In it, and allspice too, If I'd had more I'd added them, For those I had seemed few. Of crusts I'm always scary, But I tackled it with vim, And stirred and prodded, Rolled and cut it in a pancake thin. I pulled it out so brown and crisp And nibbled up the filling. The cats they nibbled down the crust (It really was most thrilling!) Though all the stuff I dumped in it Were wond'rous quite b'gosh, Yet it was good, most passing good, this pumpkin pie - of squash! No, dear, I must plead not guilty, my Lord to the charge of composing The Canadian Twilight. I found the poem in a newspaper lying on the beach one summer, I think it was 1895. I at first intended to illustrate it and copy the music also. In fact I had most of the illustrations and cover done, and then, growing dissatisfied with my work, sent you only the words. The music is in minor and I think you would like it. You like minor, don't you? I don't know who wrote it, as the author's name was not given.

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Chapter IX, "Ends and Odds", Van Buren Life

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