North Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1867-current, 1869-02-17

Vn0 60ltOr'o xSoVc0s
The following, we believe, first appear
ed in the Printer, an excellent journal for
many years published in New York devot-
cd to the interests of the craft.
tIn December, dark and dreary, sat the
writer weak and weary, pondering DER his
memorandum book of items used before
books of scrawling and notes rather, items
taken days togethe-, when the hot and sui
try weather, using up much time and
leather-pondering we those items GER.
While we pondered, slowly rocking (thro'
our mind queer ideas focking) came q
quick aud nervous notwithstanding at
the sanctum door.
''Sure that must be jerks" we muttered
-''Jcnks that's knocking at our door !;
jerks the everlasting bore"
All, how well we now remind ua, in the
walls that there confined US, Exchanges"
lay behind US all scattered DER the floor !;
thought we, jerks wants to borrow some
newspapers till tomorrow and twill be a
relief from sorrow to get rid of jerks, the
bore, by opening vide the door. Still the
visitor kept Notwithstanding louder
than before. Il n..
And the scattered pile of papers cut some
verv curious capers, being lifted by the
breezes coming through another door; and
we wished 1.-THE wish was evil, for one deem
ed always civil) that Jenks was to be the
devil, to stay there evermore-Jenks, the
never-tiring bore.
Backing up our patience irmer, then,
without another murmur. "Mr. jerks"
said we, 'your pardon, your forgiveness
we implore. But the fact is we were read
ing of a curious proceeding, and thus it
was UNDECIDED, your loud knocking there
BEFORE
Here we opened wide the door. But
fancy our feelings-for it wasn't jerks the
bore-Jenks the nameless evermore.
But the form that stood before US caused
a trembling to come DER us, and memory
bore US back again to days Of yore; days
when 'items" were in plenty, and where
ere 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, ''The
foreman's out of copy, sir, and says he
wants some more" Yes, like Alexander,
wanted more.
Now this ''local" had already walked
about till nearly dead,s he had sauntered
through the city till his feet we're very sore
walked through the streets so dusty, and
by.ways running off into all portions of
the city, both public and obscure-had
examined every store, and questioned every
"feller' whom he met from door, if any
thing was stirring-any accident occurring
NOT published heretofore, and had met
with no success 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 departing,
you young imp" cried we, upstarting,
''get you back into the ofiice-ofice where
you were before or the words that you
have spoken will get your bones all broken
land We seizeda cudgel oaken, that was
lying on the floor j take your hands ont of
your pockets, and leave the sanctum door;
tell the foreman there's no copy, you ugly
little BORE"
And our devil, never sitting, 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 beamiug. and his voice is heard
still screaming, "Sir, the foreman wants
some more!'