Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1863-01-30
The ssLOcal's'' SOlilOquy--IIOng-
fellow ont LOmg1el1OVved.

fellow ont LOngfel1owed.
In December, dark anddreary, sat the Wi.
ter weak and weary bordering ore his men,
oranda book of items used before-book Of
scrawling head notes, rather, items taken
days together, then in hot aud sultry wealth.
er, using up much time and leather-ponder-
ing we these items orc. While we pondered,
slowly rocking, Through our mind queer
ideas aocking) came a queer and nervous
knocking knocking at the sanctum door.
"Sure that must be Jenks," we muttered--
jerks that's knocking at our door; jerks the
everlasting BORE" t'-
All, how well do We remind Va, in the
walls that there confined US. Exchanges"
that lay behind US all scattered ore the floor.
Thought we jerks wants to borrow some
newspapers till tomorrow, and twill be relief
from sorrow to get rid of jerks the bore, by
opening wide the door. Still the visitor kept
notwithstanding louder than before.
And the scattered pile of papers cut some
very curious capers, being lifted by the
breezes coming through another door; and
we wished (the wish was evil for one deemed
always civiD that jerks was to the devil, to
stay there evermore, there to find his lore
jerks the never firing bore.
Backing up our patience tirmer, then, with
out another murmur, "Mr. Jenks," SAID We
''your pardon, your forgivness, we implore.
But the fact is we were reading some curious
proceeding, and thus it was unheeding your
loud knocking there before"
Here we opened wide the door. But fancy
now our phelinx-for it wasn't jerks the
bore-Jenks the nameless evermore.
But the form that stood before us caused
trembling to come DER us, and memory
quickly bore US back again to days Of yore
days when stems" were in plenty, and
where'er this writer went he picked up items
by the score Twas the dark form of our
''devil." thrust in attitude uncivil, and he
thrust his head within the door, with-"rhe
foreman's out of copy, sir, and says he wants
some more" Yes, Ike Alexander, wanted
mere!
Now this ''locsl' had already walked about
till nearly dead-hs had sauntered through
the city TIL his feet were very sore walked
through the streets 80 dusty, and by-ways
running off into all parts of the city, both pub
and had questioned every ''feller" whom he
met from door to door, if anything was stir.
ring.--any accidents occurring not published
ueIetOloIe, anu uau uleC VIII no success; ne
would rather kinder guess he felt little
wicked at that ugly little bore, with his mes
sage from the foreman, that he wanted "some-
thing more ... ..r
SHOW it's time you were departing, you
young imp" cried we upstarting get you
back into the office-.-office where you were
before; or the words you have spoken will
get your bones broken, (and we seized
cudgel oaken that was lying on the floor J
take your hands out Of your pockets, and
leave he sanctum door; tell the foreman there
is no copy, you ugly little bore"
Quoth the devil, "send him more"
And our devil, never sitting, Still is fitting,
still is fitting back and forth upon the land
ing just outside our sanctum door;t tears adown
bis face were streaming, strange light from
out his eye was beaming, and his voice is
heard still screaming, "Sir, the foreman wants
some more" And Cur soul, pierced with
that screaming, is awakened from its dream
ing, and has lost the seeming peace it had
before; tor the fancy will come Ger US that
each readers face before us bears the ho,rid
words, 1--WE want little more" Words on
their foreheads glaring, ''your local column
wants little more"