“Hylobates (Henry) Hoolock, was perfectly happy for fifteen years wearing rabbit skins in tye sylvan solitude of Indian Creek, PA. If it hadn’t been for a yen for News, Hylobates might have continued living as serene as a duck in Walden Pond. But the New York Times is a voluminous publication, and in a year’s Time back issues were edging him out of a house and a home (a cave). So Hylobates subscribed to Birdseye - that stylistic panorama of the week’s news. One day (some years later) he bethought himself of his blessings, and peeling off a bit of birchbark, he heated a predecessor’s arrowhead and wrote the magazine a letter thanking them for the comfort it had afforded his solitude...which ended, as a direct result, soon afterward. Because Julie Crandall, Birdseye’s ace photographer, appeared. So did Charlie Williams. Julie was a total loss at things of the mind-politics, for instance-but not of the flesh, as Charlie well knew, being her husband. And from then on, things began to happen...”
