The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1872-07-17
The Reporters Last Item.
8. T. oLKN,

y. I. OLkNs
Areporterr for the PHOENIX was suffering from
There was lack o, city items, thcre Was dearth
OF city news;
Blu. comrade stood beside him as his pa
tience ebbed away,
And bent, with side-long glauces, to hear what
he might say.
The first reporter faltered as he took that
comrades hand,
And he said: II am tired of tramping through
this barren land;
Take message and q notice to that distant
chief of mine,
For I'm his absent local, and without ain Gle
line.
'Tell the printers and reporters, as they meet
and crowd around
To hear this awful story in that dirty printing
That walked the city bravely, and when tho
day was done
Full meny q street had seen my face beneath
And midst that hot and tired throng were
some without care
Not 80, your humble servant; and I'm glad
I'll not be there
When the foreman comes for copy-though
twas no fault Of mine,
Through all this long and heated day have
not penned line.
"Tell the chieitain that anether'rep' will have
to fill my place,
For I'm the black sheep OF his flock, and hell
never see my face.
Ny father was an editor, and even as child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of
meetings fierce and wild;
And when he left his ancient home-I did not
mind 1t then
let him take whate'er he could, but stole his
fine gold pen;
And with boyish fun loved to scratch where
the sunlight used to shine,
On painted door outside tho house, but I
never wrote a line.
"Tell the printers not to weep for me. but
keep on sticking type,
When the locals each como in again with items
fresh and ripe;
And look upon them proudly, with calm and
eteadtast eye,
For their brother was a local, too, and not
afraid to fly.
And should another seek my place. I ask them
10 set his copy neatly, 80 twill not cause him
And put the old pen in the rack. Tiny fathers
For the honor of an editor, my honor, too,
and thine.
There's another-not a printer. in the
happy days gone by,
You'd have known him by the worldlinees
which sparkied in his eye;
Too sharp for losing money, to spend it he
would scorn,
And as for lending it without pledge, he'd
do 1t-in horn.
Tell him the laet night of my stay. (tor ere
l will far away from here and safe from any
prison.)
1 dreamed stood by him and saw the yellow
gold dust shine
In banker'n vault in Main street-but then.
it was not mine.
at saw the ereenbacks laid in pilea: hoard
or seemed to hear,
This man OF moneyed interest. in tones 40
shrill and clear,
Get ont from here, you ecoundrel; get
through that open doorl'
80 quickly left that tempting place for fear
he might do more.
l owe him forty dollars; It is due tomorrow
morning.
But he'll never see his money! remember
all his scorning.
He must look ont for his money, I'll look out
for mine,
And we'll meet no more in this town. I'm
bound scroes the line."
His voico grew faint and ooarser-in fact.
Twas getting weak;
Hls eyes put on q careless look, he coughed
and ceased to speak;
His comrade bent to listen to the laet word
he had said,
But the local for the PnGN1x to q foreienIsnd
had fled.
The soft moon roso up slowly. and calmly
she looked down
On the wide streets Of Columbia, as she does
On any town;
Yea, calmly on that busy scene her pale light
seemed to shine,
as !. shone on this reporter about to CROSS
the line.
AN INTERESTING INCIDENT know of
mn hotkor vpo =, - :llr,k-oL, Az