The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1867-05-02

.."MopE COpY.r-If after reading the
following there be any who cannot for :
rive MS when the "local column is not
filed with items, we pity their hard
heartedness: -ra-.
Once in April wet and weary, sat
this writer, weak and weary, ponder
ing DER memorandum book Of items
used before-boOk Of scrawling head
notes, rather; items, taking days to
gather them in cold and blustry wealth.
er, (using mp much time and leather)
pondered we these items DER. While
we conn'd them, slowly rocking, (thro.
our mind queer ideas focking) came a
quick and nervous knocking-knock-
ing mt tho sanctum door. "Sure that
must be Jinks," we muttered-"Jinks
that's knocking at our door; Jinks, the
everlasting bore"
All, we'll do we remind us. in the walls
which then confined us, the exchanges
lay behind us, and before us, and around
us, all scattered DER the floor. Thought
we thinks, wants to borrow some news
papers till tomorrow, and twill be a
relief from sorrow to get rid OF Jinks,
the bore, by opening wide the door.
Still the visitor kept knocking-knock-
ing louder than before.
And the scattered piles of papers cut
some rather curious capers, being lifted
by the breezes coming through another
door; and we wished (the wish was evil,
for one deemed always civil) that Jinks
was at the ID, to stay there evermore;
there to find his level-Jinks, the nerve
unstringing bore!
Bracing up our patience firmer, then,
without q murmer, "Mr. Jinks," said
we, "your pardon, your forgiveness we
implore. But the fact is we were read
ing of some curious proceeding, and
thus it was, unheeding your loud knock
ing there before,"-here we opened wide
the door. But phancy, now, our phee-
links-for it wasn't Jinks, the bore
links, nameless evermore!
But the form that stood before MS,
caused trembling to come DER us, and
mem'ry quickly bore us back again to
days of yore-days when "items" were
in plenty, and where'er this writer
went he picked up interesting items by
the score. Twas the form Of our "dev-
ill.," i'm an attitude uncivil; and he
thrust his head within the open door,
with "the foreman's ont % copy, strand
says he wants some more. Yes, like
Alexander, wanted "more"
Now, this "locap had already walked
about till nearly dead-he had saun.
tered through the city till his feet were
very sore-walking through the street
called Market, and the by-ways running
off into the portions of the city both
public and obscure; had examined every
cellar, and had questioned every "fel-
ler' whom he met, from door to door, if
anything was stining-any accident &C.
curing, not published heretofore, and
had met with no success; he would rath-
er kinder guess he felt little wicked
at the ugly little bore, with his message
from the foreman that he wanted "some-
thing more"
"Now it's time you wero departing,
you scampw cried we, upstarting, "get
you back into the office; Office where
you were before; or the words that you
have spoken will get your bones all
broken" (and we seized cudgel, oak
en-, that was lying OH the floor) "take
your hands out of your pockets, and
leave the sanctum door; tell the fore
man there's no copy, you ugly little
bore" Quoth our devil, "send him
more"
And our devil, never sitting, still is
fitting back and forth upon tue land
ing Just out side our sanctum door.
Tears adown his cheeks are streaming
strange light from his eyes is BEAM
ing-and his voice is heard still scream
ing, "Sir, the foreman wants some
morer' And our soul, pierced with
that screaming, is awakened from its
dreaming, and has lost the peaceful
feeling had before; for the fancy will
come DER us, that each readers face be-
fore us, bears the horrid words-"we
want little more" Words, on their
heads glaring, "your funny column
needs a little MORE ~