Daily Ohio statesman. [volume] (Columbus, Ohio) 1855-1870, 1866-11-17
Oglo Statesman.
sut LovegOod HAS the Blues.


you fer sympathy, for you'll laugh at fell
Ter. rgeE
Nobody not thusly afflicted kin 'preciate
ginnywine old fashioned spell Of the dis
ease sich ez now hev. I'd AK you to lick
er, kernel, but Ticker dontdo no more good
ZEN ice water. circumstanced eZ am. Don't
AK what's the matterl la my fix feller
don't know, and can't tell.a a.r
If it warn't for manhoOd's sake, I'D hunt
corner and gladly cry. Women have the
blues oftener than men, an eff it warn't for
the fact that all the town knows SUITS mar
ried, could easy find sixteen-yer old,
jist shed of her pantalets, which would
git inter corner with me, an twixt her
imaginary an my real woes, we 'ud hev
royal time.
But SUITS married man, an tharfore to
all intents an purposes dead. srr.. 49,. ~
A friend of mine onct he'd queer kind of
dream, which Pye often thought about.
He was powerful fond of flowers. A
garding full of the choicest was onct open
to him, and he was told how he might walk
through, and he might look and smell to
his content, but he must tote away but one.
He thought he couldn't choose amiss, an
he went in lemeDs fore daylight, an
snetched the fust one his hands hit on.
Powerful proud he was ez he tOted it Off,
He wore it on his bosom right over his
left palpitator, an wondered at his luck in
so soon maxim fine, selection. Bimeby,
at sun up, he thought mebbe he might a
done better by watin', an before midday
he found out he either had jimson weed
blossom, er a flower too rare an fine for
him to 'preshiate. -. tr
lie wanted to swap off; nary go. Then
he wanted the privilege Of goin' back into
the garting an enjoyin' the perfume of the
| flowers he left behind-but nary onct. a
NY friend woke up swear'n he never
would pull another flower, but they might
all bud, an bloom, an fade, on their parent
stalks for him. ".E
His head was level! ..-a.r
Well. kernel, they won't let me back
inter the garding. I've got my flower
prospect is, no body's gwine to fight me an
take hit away. 'Twould be the poorest
fight an the easiest goin' thing you ever
heard of-(seab).
But, kernel, I've got the blues. ..
I've been in the big Orleans, an all days
alike, an the nights various. l don't often
let on like nothin' troubled me. Onct in a
while find myself alone an get ter think
in.
Thar's my ole mother up yonder in Ten
nessee, an she thinks SUITS fust cousin to
ole Gabe hisself. A shinin' one from the
blue upstairs couldn't make her believe
but SUIT was a good boy. think Of her
gray hairs, her troubles, an furnaces of
aflliction. figger her face an form ez she
| looked when l was little bit of cuss, an
she teachin' me my evenin' prayers. l
foller along the dusty road Pve travelled up
| to whiskers an manhood, an the same face
an voice hev haunted me, an the same
prayers hev been hOldn' me back like livin'
| things, ez | went plungin' an caVOrtin'
down the big wide road.
This minute she's sittin' by the winder
at home, an now an then she looks down
the road, an she sighs, an keeps thinkip
about her boy Sut.. Watch her now, ez
| she takes off her specs an wipes away the
dimness, an sighs, an knits agin. She's
wonderin' an hOpin' an fearin' fer Sut,
an the knittin' she's at is fer Sut, which
blacks his boots.
Thar aint no ivy round our house at home,
kernel, an thar amt no honey suckle, an
no poarch-so-called. The house is an OLE
fashioned country place, painted red, an
the hogs chickens, an houn-pups take pot
| luck all roun' it, an make themselves at
home about the door-but hits home. ul
Big sis got married an gone to Nash
vile, an thar's left of the brood a little
| blue-eyed gal, mebbe ten yer old. Now
| that dads dead, she an the ole woman set
an talk by the hour bout Sut, an wonder
why he don't write more'n month. Buddy
| Sut orter, when he knows how they love to
puzzle out his bad spellin', an how worn
an how dOg-eared the triflln' ole letter gifts
| fore new one comes to them.
/ drink whisky an play poker till the
fellers wonder whar in thunder the money
taE 4 N
enough, an laugh atSut's smutty yarns an
| think he's all sorts of feller. They'll use
him for their own'purpose, drink his Ticker
an eat his lake dinners am keep wopder-
in whar he gifts his money, an give him
credit for either he'd or hart. ..t
When Pixies bank quit tdlscountin' to bob
tail commission merchants, an SUITS cash
runs short, SUITS friends will git fewer,
an they'll shut their gardin' gates, an
Sut'll be poor onary cuss, ez they alters
know'd lie was. ~ s.f.. aa...
Hit makes me feel bluer en- indigo to
| think how a man will sacrifice hissef an
the honest devotion of them that loves him
next to his Maker, fer sich ondisputed hum
bugs.
Wish't hadn't come to the big Or
leans, kernel. / hev larnt to git worldly
ways an ideas an projecks; to detect an
/
| shinin' with what turned out to be foX-fire.
| | hev larnt to excuse rascality an give
great truths an principles the great "g0by;''
| to strangle conscience an my heart to tell
my brain to go to it on a fas' line, both ez
to pleasure an gain an count with huck-
leberry above the persimmon of wisdom.
The world amt what thought it, an men
not worth par value. Sol, ,,s. -.,,.....t.
Hits what didn't want to find out.
! | love to take feller for what his face
calls for, an; judge him by his i'm
pulses, experience not in Orleans, but from
my experience not in Orleans. ~ ..-...
What's good for the blues, kernel? I've
done tried Ticker, an hit don't do no good.
| I've asked the fellers what run With, an
they larf at me an say no body but win-
men gifts the blues. Smokin' makes it
wuss, an reason an common sense don't
faze 'em.
| y wanter 90 home! l wanter find sum-
thin as loves me. Seems to me that eff
went up to the gate at home an the old
| houn' Nipper was to bay like he know'd
me, an little bue-eyed Nellie was to run to
meet me, 'twould cure me sartin.l I'D think
| little Nellie's homespun dress and feet put
tier than the ruslin' silk, bare neck an on
decent tilter the gal wears what rides with
me. Ole Nipper's yelp would be honester
ZEN the shout of the fellows at the club
"Hyar comes Sut!" an the ole woman's
"God bless you, my SON." would be sweeter
than all the Delilah kisses as fast life in Or
leans ever tastes. 'N .'F .siuhl i2 ~.
Kernel, hits an orful thing to be or feel
alone. hev felt .so-4the iolliest cuss in a
merry crowd--wuss so then ZEN at any
other time-aii' / hev quit the fellers an sot
nv pins moviH, towards my den, while the
| | sLSS..s ,,rinkah an, hlinknd like thau had q