The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1866-12-28
DRYING on.

ours TINS clever imltauon OF popular Eng
lish novelist
DRIVING ON.
1t was some ten or twenty years after these
times OF ours-lttle matter how many The
stoker knew how many, perhaps, and so did
the engine driver, for they were middlesaged
men--ol1 men, you would say. in experience
of Flue. And how the tlue stuck TO them,
Fine on the engine drivers caps; ilue on the
stoker face; tlge in the engine drivers and
stekers pockets. Eiue proceeding out Of the
funnel OF the locomotive up the line; fue
proceeding out of the locomotive down the
line In It's faaatical form and shape of hid
eousness, which Dirt can assume, it held a
weird resemblance on the rails and on the
faces Of The bard working men, to the stain
OF soffuw and sin on the faces of the poor.
There, too, it chung wherever itlighted. just
my Lords and Gentlemen, and Honorable
Boards, as that other stain will cling where
it lights, up and down the line of human life
Il was muggg morning. Everybody adj
mitted it, from the guard at the last station,
where he had affably accepted Mr.. Pockleth-
whacky four pence for pint OF beer, TO Dir.
Poeklelhwaeky himself, airly installed in an
air cushion IN an airy second class carriage,
putting windycigar. and whistling the Bon
ME House of Airiie Mr. Pockethwhacky
admitted the morning was muggy; in fact. he
stated SO voluntarily. "a muggy morning,
SIR said Mr. Pocklethwhacky to his oppo-
site neighbour beneticent, round faced
man, with a rim OF whiskers all around his
chin.
The Undetermined man looked up from
q book he was reading. Mr.. Pockleth wacky
casting glance at the volume the other held,
saw i was The Book, open at the Proverbs
of King Solomon.
IL
as the dews fly downwards; and sufficient for
the day is the evil thereof, said that whisker
trimmed man.
our remark, sir, is what may call preg-
pAnt with truth, said Mr.. Pocklethwhacky
-11esfnE With consideration in mind, sir,
should say you was inclined to PHILOSOPHERS
ing turn OF mind
II am a Proyerbial Philosopher, and my
words are the words af wisdom, resurned
the whisker trimmed man. Wisdom stitch
at the street corners, and cried to the passers
by Is is sweet TO recognize glory IN the
black beetle, aud more than beauty in the
butterfly.
..Meauing Polly Perkins. sir
nNo. sir; meaning nothing but Proven
bial Philosophy, said the whisker-rimmed
ulal.
siDh. indee d, = said Mr.. Pocklethw hacky,
disconnected Are you gong far, may
ask"
1.-The end of journey is its destination,
and The conclusion of most things is its ter-
mrnstion. | am going TO knebsworlh, where
tn liberaliiy Of genial aiiiuence hath proyid,
ed home for The Senile Philosopher, = said
the whisker trimmed man.
The train sped onward Through ruts and
ridges OF undulating land, over lowl5ing
tracts OF desoiate marsh, by water courses,
above single and sorrel and the spires of
flashing town. The fue gathered and in
creased: all the speed and the whiil and clat>
ter could not bear il down. No more, my
lords and gentlemen, and honorable boards,
can the whrl and clatter you make, in the
toastfll assertions of your order, bear down
he faint which letters the progress of the
poor.
The train flies fast. Fast your majesty
Fast, my lords and gentlemen. Fast, righ'
reverends and wrong reverends OF every de-
gree. Fast, common men and women, with
sorrow and human sympathy in your hearts
And tying thus around us every day.