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One day, long ago, I found a few pages of a manuscript laying on a rock. On top of them was a smaller rock to keep them from blowing away. I thought the owner would be right back so I kept on fishing. Finally my curiosity got the better of me and this is what I read;
Well I had no idea who WSK was unless it was that young Kelly fellow who comes around here every once in a while. I don’t think Kelly wrote much. Liked to talk a lot. Nope, probably not Kelly.
Now I know it wasn’t Kelly. Kelly would not be smoking a briar pipe. He preferred the white meerschaum pipes with carvings of deer and rabbits on them. And this fellow apparently came to the Adirondacks quite often.
Came in on a stagecoach did he, that WSK fellow did. Bet he was from New York. Smoked cigars most of the time. Prob’ly a banker. Yep, New York fellow.
I was all through reading so I put the papers back on the big rock and placed the smaller stone on top so that the next fellow could read about this WSK’s pipe.
The only one I ever saw there was an old black raven sitting on that big rock reading about the pipe. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.
