The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1874-06-27
A Kentuckian Sir Roger de Coverly at
the Capital
Grace Greenwood in n. Y Times.

Grace Greenwood in N Y Times.
We have the genuine old Kentucky spirit
redivivus in Washington. An irate South
ern gentleman 'sall of the rale old stock"
and signing himself ''Shelby," appeared in
one of our papers few mornings ago, in an
indignant protest against the modern
French society play. | must quote few
passages:
"I am ffty-five years of age and have
been constant theatre goer for forty years,
but never had occasion to blush as spec
tator until last night, when [ saw for the
first time that abomination, called Monsieur
Alphonse, at the National theatre. Unfor-
fortunately, had taken my two daughters,
aged fifteen and eighteen, respectively, at
tending the convent at Georgetown.
&C You, sir, may imagine the shock their
innocent minds received. I am aware that
the vehemence of my remarks may excite
the ire of actors and managers of this most
indecent play, but my first duty is to socie-
ty, of which my family forms part. l in
close my card, sir. Before the war, sir, no
man was better known in the South. My
father was a District Judge of Shelby coun-
ty, for twenty years, and the keys of my
front door and my sideboard are always on
the outside. If my name is demanded you
are at perfect liberty to give it. am pre-
pared to accept all the consequences of my
philippe under the oaks or in court of
law
How delightfully."- old fashioned! Has the
dear old planter been taking Rip Van
Wrinkle sleep in the mountain cave fer tie
last dozen years, that he doesn't know that
plays are no longer written for innocent
young ladies or modest old gentlemen?
And he hasn't heard of the temperance Cruz
sade-and doesn't know that the dnello has
gone out--that not even the fiery Southern
Is called ON to fight 'under the oaks,
though he sometimes surrenders in their
grateful shade. The royal oak it was the
tree, beneath which Pembertons y. c.,
threw up the SPONGE" in '63.%sIt' is q
wonder that he puts up at. the Arlington
that he did not go to the National and ask
for Henry Clay's old rooms, saying: "I'm
a Kentuckian, sir, from Shelby county, sir.
Ii the rooms are occupied, sir, they must be
vacated. There is my card, SIR
OBITUARY OF A WESTERN EDIToR.-Ye
editor sat in his ricketty chair, as worried as
worried could be, for We Devil was grinning
before him there, and sscopy" ye Devil
sayed he.
Oh, ye Editor grabbed his big quill pen,
and it sputtered ye ink so free that his
manuscript looked like a war map when--
= 1dke buis3 n W ye u6Nlt SpAk6 ne.
He scribbled and scratched through ye
iye-long day, no rest or refreshment had
he, for ye Devil kept constantly coming
that way, and howling for more s'cop-ee;
Day after day he scissored and wrote, q
Staying the whole countree; while ye Devil
kept piping his single note, "a little more
outside cop-ee.
And when ye boy of We newsrooms heard
ye noise of We hIdeous fray, ye sound of a blow
and a blasphemous word, ssHe's raising ye
devilg' says they.
And oft when man with grievience
came in, We Editor man to see, he'd turn
| his back with word of sin--.1 Go talk to
We Devil sayed he.
And ever and oft, when a proof of his
work We proprietor wanted to see, " Ye
proof shall be shown by my personal clerk;
you must go to the Devil sayed he.'
And thus he was destined, through all os
his life, by this spirit tormented to be; in
hunger and poverty, sorrow and strife, al
ways close to We Devil was be.
| Ye Editor died !; But tss4 ,Dspil Iced
1 ont And We force OF life's habits we see;
| for We Edior's breath no sooner was gone.
than straight to We Devil went ne.