Litchfield enquirer., 1860-08-09
"MOR,E COPY

Once in autumn, wet and dreary, sat this writer, weak and weary, pondering OCT Q memorandum book of items used before (book of scrawling head notes, rather 1; items taking days to gather them in hot and sultry weather, using up much time and leather, )-pondered we those times OCT. While we conned them, slowly rocking,
 (through our mind queer ideas focking, came quick and nervous knockng-knock- Ing at the sanctum door. "Sure, that must be Jlnks," we muttered-" Jinks that's knocking at our door Jinks, the cverlast- Ing bore." An. we'll do we remind us. in
 the low walls which then confined us, the
 " exchanges" lay behind us, and before us.
 and around us, all scattered on the floor
 Thought we, "Jinks wants to borrow some
 newspapers till tomorrow, and twill be re- lief from sorrow to get rid of Jinks, the bore, by opening wide the door," Still the visitor kept knocking knocking louder than before. And the scattered piles of papers cut some rather curious capers, being lifted by the brcezes coming through another door !; and we wished (the wish was evil, for one deemed always civi) that Jinks was to the d, to stay there evermore /; there to find his level-JiEks, the nerye-unstringing bore :! Bracing up our patience frmer, then, with out another murnur, '" Mr. Jinks," said we,
 :" your pardon, your forgiveness we implore
 But the fact is, we were reading of some curious proceeding, and thus, it was, un- needing your loud knocking there before" Here we opened wide the door. But plan. cy now our pheelins-for it wasn't Jinks the bore-Jinks, tine nameless evermo:e. Bat the form that stood before us, caused trembling to come OCT us, and memory quickly bore us back again to days of yore-days when items were plenty and where'er this writer went, he picked up interesting items by the score. Twas the form of our "devil' ill an attitude uncivil, and he thrust his head within the open door, with "The foreman'S out Q copy, sir-he says he wants some more P .'Yes like Alexander, wanted "more." Now, this "locap had already walked abroad till nearly dead-he had sauntered through the city till his feet were very sore-and walked through the street groceries and the by-ways running off into the portions of the city, both public and obscure had examined store and cellar, and had questioned every feller" whom he met from door to door, if anything was stirring, any accident occurring--not pub lished heretofore--and he met with no sue cess; he would rather guess he felt a little wicked at that ugly little bore, with the message from the foreman that he :" wanted something more" Now, Us time you were departing, you young scamp" cried we, upstarting "get you back into your ofice-office where you were before--or the words that you have spoken will get your bones all broken ;" (and we seized cudgtl oaken--tl'at was lying on the floor, take your hands out of your pockets, and leave the sanctum door tell the foreman there's no copy, you ugly bore" Quoth the devil, send him more" And cur devil, never sitting, still is fitting, still is fitting, back and forth upon the landing, just outside the sanctum door, Tears adown his cheeks are streaming strange light from his eye is beaming--and his voice is heard, still cry ing, Sir, the foreman wants some more P And our soul, pierced with that screaming, is awakened from its dreaming, and has lost the peaceful feeling for the fancy will come OCT us that each readers face before US, hears the horrid words" We want little more~ Words, upon their foreheads garing. Your funny column needs little more p