The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-12-22
E@CEssEsEaANTK



December. dark and dreary, sat
the writer weak and weary, ponder
ing DER his memoranda book of
items used before-book of scrawling,
head-notes rather, items taken days
together, then in hot and sultry wea-
ther, using up much time, and lea
ther-pondering we these items DER.
While we pondered, slowly rocking,
(through our mind queer ideas flock
ing,) came a quick and nervous
knocking-knooking at the sanctum
door. ''Sur6 that must be Jenks, 1"
we muttered-''Jenks that's knock
ing at our door; jerks, the everlast-
ing bore" b lis .ic5
Alb, how we'll do we ecmind us.
in, the walls that there confined na.
exchanges lay behind us all scat
tered DER the floor. Thought we
Jenks wants to borrow some news
papers till tomorrow, and twill
be relief from sorrow to get rid of
Jenks the bore, by opening wide the
door. Still the visitor kept knock
ing-knocking louder than before.
And the scattered pile of papers
out some very curious capers, being
lifted by the breezes coming through
another door; and we wished (the
wish was evil for Que deemed always
civil, that jerks was to the deviD to
stay there evermore, there to find his
love-Jenks, the never firing bore.
Backing up our patience frmer,
then, without another, "Mr. Jenks,"
said we, ''your pardon, your forgive
ness, we implore. But the fact is,
we were reading of some curious pro-
-ceeding, and thus it was unheeded
your loud knocking there before"
Here we opened wide the door.
But fancy now our feelings it
wasn't jerks tho 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
s'items" 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 un-
OWL, and he thrust his head within
the door, with-''the foreman's out
of copy, sir, and says he wants some
more" Yes, like Alexander, wanted
more.
Now this '1ocal' had already walk
ed about till nearly dead-he had
sauntered through the city till his
feet were very sore-walked through
the streets so dusty, and by ways
running off into all portions of the
city, both public and obscure-bad
examined every store, and questioned
every ''feller" whom he met from
door, if anything was stirring-any
accident occurring-not published
heretofore, and had met with no sue
cess; he would rather kinder guess he
felt little wicked at that ugly little
bore, with his message from the fore
man, that he wanted "something"
more.
"Now, tits time you were depart
ing, you young imp" cried we, up
starting, ''get you back into the Of
hce-office where you were before;
or,the words you have spoken will
get your bones all broken land we
seized cudgel oaken, that was lying
on the foor;) take your hands out of
your pockets, and leave the sanctum
door; tell the foreman there is no
copy, you ugly little bore"
And our devil, never sitting, still
is fitting, still is fitting, back and
forth upon the landing just outside
our sanctum door; tears down his
face are streaming, strange light from
his eye is beaming, and his voice is
heard still screaming, ''Sir, the fore
man wants some more"