The Lincoln County herald., 1872-11-20

very uaPPy' ~ eAP'Ss '.o'e". o"o
tion with ielicitous combination Of
sweetness and force. These people have
no touls-no appreciation of the beauti
ful n art"
While tho poet mused, hurried steps
we're heard upon the stairs, and in n
mon cnt middle aged man dashed in
abruptly, and, seizng Brimmer's scat
tered hair, bumped his PROSTATE lead
against the table three or four times with
considerable force. Having expended
the violence Of his emotion in this man
ner, he held the editors head down with
one hand, shaking it occasionally by way
of emphasis, and with the other hand
seized the paper and said:
You dsgraceful old reprobate You
unsy mpathetic and disgusting vampire
You hoary headed old ghoul What
d'ou mean by putting such stuff as this
in your vile sheet about my deceased
son ? What dou mean by printing such
awful doggerel as this, you depravcd and
dissoluto ink slihger you imbecile old
quill driver, you
"Oh bury Bartholomew out in the woods,
n
Where the bumblebees buzz and the woodpeckers
And the straddle. bugs tumble around
So that in winter when the snow and the slush
Have covered his last little bed,
His brother Artemus can go out with Jane
And visit the place with his sled,"
"l'll teach you to talk about stradlls
bugs I'll instruct you about slush !!
, I'll enlighten your insane old intellect on
the subject Of singing woodpeckers !!
What do you know about Jane aud
) Artemus, you wretched buccaneer, you
despicable butcher of the English Ian
guage Go out with a sled I'll carry
, you out in hearse before am through
with you, you deplorable lunatic y
At the end Of every phrase the visitor
gave tho editors head fresh knock
against the table. When the exercise
was finished, Mr.. Brmmer explained and
apologized in the humblest manner,
promising at the same time to give his
assalant chance to pummel Ott.
1.-The treachery of the man." mur
INJURED the poet, "is dreadful. Didn't he
desire me to throw glammor Of poetry
over common place details? :? But for
uding to woodpeckers and bugs, and
other children Of nature. The man OBJ.
jects to the remarks about the sled !!
Cant the idiot know that it was neces.
ary to have rhyme for bed? ? Can he
suppose that could write poetry without
rhymes The man is a. lunatic He
ought not to be at large"
|, HorJlv ho1 ho ;,diupopk op1 apor
getc parent of Bartholomew departed
when a man with red hair and ierocious
glare in his eyes entered, carrying club
and accompanied by savage looking
} dog.
II want to see the editor!' he shouted
A CHASTITY pallor o'erspread Brimmer $
face. and he said:
r "The editor is not in"
"Well then. when will he be in p
"Not for a week-a month q year
forever He will never csme in any
more = shouted Brimmer "He has
gone to South America, with the inten-
,ion of remaining there the balance OF
his life He has departed-he has fled.
If you want to see him you had better
follow him to the Equator. He will be
glad to see you | would advise you, as
FREUD, to take the next boat, and to
start at once"
That is unfortunate" said the man
with the golden locks; 81 called for the
purpose Of batteriug him up lot with a
club !"
He will be sorry" said Brmmer,
sarcastically. "Ile will regret missing
you. l will write to him, and mention
that you dropped in"
"My name is McFadden, sir" said the
man. II came to break the head of the
man who wrote that obituary poetry
obout my wife. If you don't tell me
who perpetratsd the following, I'll break
yours for you Where's the man who
wrote this ? Pay attention:
"Mrs. McFadien has gone from this life!
She has lett all its sorrows and cares;
She caught the rheumatics in both Of her legs
, While snrubbing the cellar and stairs
They put mustard plasters upon her in vain,
They bathed her with whisky and rum,
But Thursday her spirit departed, and left
Her body entirely numb"
"The slave who held the late Mrs.
; McFadden up 10 the scorn OF an unsym.
pathetic world in that shocking manner"
said the editor, lis named Remington
OFT. He boards in Blank street, fourth
door from the corner. | would advise
you to call on him aud avengs Mrs
McFaddcn's wrongs with a judicous
intermixion Of club and dog bites.
And this sighed the poet outside
the door, sis the man Who told me to
divert McFadden's mind from the con
temptation Of the horrors of the tomb,
1t was This monster who couuselled me
to make the sunshine of McFaddens s
, smiles burst through the tempest of
McFaddens tears If that sore headed
monster couldn't smile over that allusion
; to whiskey and rum; if those remarks
about the rheumatism ia ho- legs could
not divert his mind from the horrors of
r the tomb, was it my fault2 McFadden