Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1873-06-05

or tnat W0rd. ana II young omlln uiull
have four doctors, it was al outrage. He
ought to have had them, and they ought to
have excited his liver Thus it is" thought
OFT, 'that human life is sacrificed to careless
ness"
At this iuncture, the sheriff entered, his
brow clothed with thunder He had copy
of the Morning Glory in his hand. He ap-
preached the editor, and pointing to death
notice, said:
"Read that horrible mockery of my woe,
and tell me the name of the writer, so that l
can chastse him."
The editor read rs follows:
awe have lost our little Hannah in a very painful
manner,
And we often asked, How can her harsh suffer-
ings he borne?'
When her death was first reported, her aunt got
up and snorted
With the grief she supported for it made her feel
forlorn.
She was a little seraph, that her father, who is a
sheriff,
Really doesn t seem to care if he never smiles in
life again;
She has gone, we hope, to heaven, at the early
aye Of seven,
(Funeral starts off at 'lcven,) where she'll never
more have pain"
GAS consequence of this infamy, with
draw all the county advertising from your pa
per- A man who can trihe in this manner
with the feelings of parent is savage and
a scoundrel !"
"Really," OFT reflected, "that person must
be deranged. tried in his case, to put my
self in his place, and to write as if it was one
of the family, according to instructions. The
verses are beautiful. That allusion to the
grief of her aunt, particularly, seemed to me
to be very happy. 1t expresses violent emo
ton with felicitous combination Of sweet
ness and force. These people have no soul
no appreciation of the beautiful art"
While the poet mused, hurried steps were
heard upon the stairs, and in moment a
middle.aged man dashed in abruptly, and
seizing Brimmers scattered hair, bumped his
PROSTATE head against the table three times
with considerable force. Having expended
the violence of his emotion in this manner,
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 disgraceful old reprobate ! You I'M
sympathetic and disgusting vampire! You
hoary.headed old ghoul What d'you mean
by putting such stuff as this in your sheet
about my deceased son ? What d'you mean
by printing such awful doggerel as this, you
depraved and dissolute ink. .slinger-you i'm
beetle old quill.driver you?
"Oh bury Bartholomew out in the woods,
In beautiful hole in the ground,
Where the bumble-bees buzz and the woodpeck-
erS sing,
And the straddle-b bugs tumble arcund;>
So that in winter when the snow and slush
Have covered his last little bed,
His brother Artemas can 60 out with Jane
And visit the place with his sled"
"I'll teach you to talk straddlebugs! I'll
instruct you about slush I'll enlighten your
insane old intellect on the subject Of singing
wood -peckers! What d'you know about Jane
and Artemas, you wretched buccaneer, you
despicable butcher of the English language
Go out in sled III carry you out in a
hearse before I'm done with you, you deplor-
able lunatic!"
At the end ofevery phrase, the visitor gave
the editors head fresh knock against the ia
ble. When the exercises were ended, Mr..
Brimmer explained and apologized in the
humblest manner, promising at the same time
to give his assailant a chance to pummel
OFT.
Hardly had the indignant and energetic
parent of Bartholomew departed, when man
with red hair, and ferocious glare in his
eyes, entered, carrying club, and accompa-
MED by e.looking dog.
''I want to see the editor" he shouted.
A ghastly pallor overspread Brimmer's face,
and he said:
"The editor is not in !"
"Well, when will he be in ?"
"Not for a week-a MONITOR year
forever! He will never come in any more"
screamed Brimmer He has gone to South
America, with the intention of staying there
the balance of his life.
"That is unfortunate" said the man with
the golden locks; II called for the purpose Of
battering him up lot with this club"
"He will be sorry" said Brimmer, sarcas-
ticaly. "He will regret missing you. I'll
write to him and tell him, and mention that
you dropped in."
"My name is McTadden," said the man ;
II came to break the head of the man who
wrote that obituary poetry about my wife. If
you don't tell me who perpetrated the follow
ing, I'll break yours for you!
"AIrs McFadden has gone from this life,
She has left all her SORROWS and cares!
She caught the rheumatism in both her legs,
While scrubbing the cellar and stairs.
They put mustard plaster upon her in vain,
They bathed her in whisky and rum;
But Thursday her spirit departed and left
lIerbody entirely numb.'
"The slave who held the late Mrs McFad-
den up to the scorn ofan unsympathetic world,
in that shocking manner" said the editor, "is
named Remington OFT. He boards in Blank
street, fourth door from the corner"
"And this" sighed the poet, outside the
door, is the man who told me to divert Nc.
Fadden's mind from the horrors Of the tomb.
It was this monster who counseled me to make
the sunshine of McFadden's smiles burst thro'
the tempest of McFadden's tears. If that
sore headed monster couldn't smile over that
allusion to whisky and rum; if those remarks
about rheumatism in her legs, could not di-
vert his mind from the horrors of the tomb,
was it my fault? ?" McFadden growled- -"He
knows no more about poetry than speckled
mule knows about the Shorter Catechism."
The poet determined to leave before any
further criticisms were made upon his perform
ances. He jumped down from the chair and
crept softly toward the back staircase, where
he suddenl " encountered Brimmer, who was
moving off in the same direction. The editor
had hardly time to utter a profane ejaculation
and to lift his hand to strike the poet, when
an old lady in poke bonnet and silver.bowed
spectacles, suddenly emerged from the stair
way and pinned the editor to the wall with
the ferule of her umbrella. After grinding
her teeth at him for moment, she hoored
him with her weapon, and seating herself