The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1873-05-28

outonef OF the English language? Go
ont in sledl I'll. carry yon ont in .
hearse before I'm done with you, you de-
p'orable lunstic!"
At the end Of every phrase, the visitor
gave the editors head fresh knock
against the table: When the exercises
were ended, Mr. Brimmsr explained and
apologized in the humblest manner.
promising at the same time to give his
assaiIant chance to pummel OF.
Ihe treachery Of the man." muir.
INJURED the poet, sis dreadful. Didn't
he desire me to throw glamour OF
poetry over common. place details? But
Tor that should never have thought of
aliuding to wood-peekers, and bugs and
other children OF nature. The man
objects to the remarks; about the sled.
Don't the idiot know that it was neoes-
sary to have rhyme for 'bed?' Gan he
suppose that can write poetry without
rhymes? The man is q lunaticl He
ought not to be at largels
Hardly had the indignant and ener.
getic parent Of Bartholomew departed.
when man with red hair, and q Zero.
oious glare in his eyes, entered, carrying
club, and accompanied by e savsge.look-
II want to see the editor, ,".he shouted.
A ghast!y pal'or overspread Brimmer's
face, and he said:
'"The editor 10 not inl"
swell. when will he be in?"
"Not for a week-a month-ora YEAR
foreverl He will never come in anv
morer' screamed Brimmer. He has
gone to South America, with the inten.
tlon Of staying there tile balance of his
life. He has departed-he has fed. IF
you want to see him, you had better fol-
low him to the equator. He will be glad
to see you. I would advise you. "a a
friend, to take the next ho.. end start e.
once"
That is unfortunate" said the man
with the golden looks; II called for the
purpose Of battering him up lot with
He will be sorry" said Brimmer
sarcastically. HE will regret missing
you. I'll write to him and tell Him. and
tnention that you dropped in"
MY name is McFadden," said the
man; IL came to break the head OF the
man who wrote that obituary poetrv
about my wife. II you don't tell me
who perpetrated the following. I'll break
yours for you! Where is the man that
wrote this? Rsy attention:
"Hrs. McFadden has gone from this life.
o., sne mas ieft all her sorrows and caresI
she caught the rheumatism in both her legs
~, While sorubbing the cellar and stairs.
| 1ney put mustard plaster upon her in vain
Ihey bathed her in whiskey and rum:
But thursday her spirit departed and left
der body entirely numb"
'The slave who held the late Mre
McFadden up to the scorn of an unsvm-
pathetic world, in that shockino man.
ner, said the editor, sis named Remipo.
ton OFT. He boards in Blank street..
fourth door from the corner. I would
advise you to call on him and ayenoe
Mrs. McFadden's wrongs with Judi.
nlous lntermixture of club and dog
bites" I'm %
and this. sighed the poet, outside
the door. sis the man who told me- to
divert McFadden's mind from the hor-
rors OF the tomb. It was this monster
who counseled me to make the sunshine
OF Mciadden's smiles burst through the
tempest OF McFadden' tears. II that
re'headed monster cou1dn't smile over
that allusion to whiskey and rum; if
those remarks about rheumatism in her
legs could net diver. lie mind from the
horrors OF the tomb, was it nv fsutt2"
Mcfadden growled-"He knows no
more about poetry than. q speokied mule
knows about the Shorter Cateohism::
Ihe poet determined 10 leave before
any further criticisms were made upon
h:s performances. BE jumped down
from the chair and crept softly toward
the back staircase, where he suddenly
encountered Brimmer, who was moving
oil in the same direction. The editor
had hardly time to utter profane eiacu.
lation and to lift his hand to strike the
poet, when an old lady in poke bonnet
and silver-bowed spectacles, suddenly
emerged from the stairway and pinned
the editor to the wall with tho ferule of
her umbrella. After grinding her teeth
at him for moment. she Aoored him
with her weapon, and seating herself
upon his PROSTATE form, che extracted
a copy of the Morning Glory from her
bag, and pointing to certain stanza in
the obituary column, asked Otto to read
1t aloud. He did 80. It read in this
fashion:
Little ALI xander's dead;
jam him in tho coffin;
Dent have as good chance
For funeral often!
Hush his body right around
10 tue cemetery,
Drop him in the sepuichre
With his Uncle Jerry"