The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-07-04

mind and the horrible iteration of
monomaniac-he had named that brig for
himself, Sylvanus w. Kicker. The brig
piled the raging main with rock,salt, with
coal, with lumber. The fastest Cunarder was
nothing to her; she was ubiquitous; no
sooner had our journal recorded her safe
arrival at Valparaiso with cargo of corn
than she was signaed at Sandy Hook, and
was off again with missionaries to the Cannibal
islands, soon to return by way of New
Orleans with a hold filled with sugar and
molasses.
The Bard of Avon who am glad to
believe, united poet:cal talent to close obser-
walton and understanding of human nature
and was not Lord Bacon, has allowed an
interesting heroine to ask, in the course of
one Of his plays-"What's in name." Not
very much, dear Miss Juliet, as your ex-
cellent father and Montague senior, could
have told yoa. A mere trife-misery woe
and eternal emnity.
Excuse these ravings-I will be calm and
tell the story as coherently as may be. The
10 August, 1875, the chief editor in the
shipping department, noticing my depression,
proposed that 1 should 60 down the harbor
with him in the newsb0at belonging to our
paper, to look at vessel lately run aground
at Sandy Hook with view to writing up the
artless story Of the rescued crew. languidly
assented- what were the perils of the deep
to desperate man? We embarked, we
sped down the harbor; a sense of life, of
enjoyment dawned upon me as we neared
the scene of the wreck. A wide, steel-blue
sea; broad sweep Of sky, parted from the
waters by the pure, slender line of the
horizon, the broken ship; single plank that
drifted nearer our little newsboat- ah
horror, it bore the name OF the ship
Sylvanus w. Kicker!
At first the temperance of the haunting
spectre in the role of Old Man of the Sea,
started me; then l reflected that, after the
account of the wreck had been printed, in
all probability the name would no longer
embitter my labors as assistant shipping
editor. One avenue through which woe
walked was efectually closed. The labors of
the ubiquitous brig were ended.
From that time, I believe, the hope of
freedom beckoned me dimly on. Let the
reader do me justice: never allowed my
self to dwell upon the idea of personal ex-
termination as applied to Mr.. Kicker. Even
had my principles not restrained me, it
would have been manifested impolitic to
decline thus emphatically to meet the ills
had, and fly to others that I knew not of.
have said that Mr.. Kicker was member
of various societies and public-spirited
man-will the reader imagine for moment
the probable length of obituary notices, the
copies of resolutions forwarded to the
afflicted family, and the biographical sketches
of the late lamented, had reduced Mr..
Kicker to that condition. This was a more
effectual restraint than fear of capital
punishment. Indeed believe every jury
man OF them all, once possessed of the facts,
would have rendered verdict in my favor
Of justifable homicide, had succumbed to
the temptation.
assisted the editor to prepare his report
OF the wrecked Sylvanus W. Kicker, and we
sailed homeward. Even the ocean refused
quiet resting place to the man pursued
by name.
Fortunately for me, an intelligent public
shortly after emphasized its appreciation of
my talents and disposition by electing me to
the Legislature. I accepted the ofice-any-
thing was better than the settled melancholy
of my life at the Dynamite Office, the con-
slant dread of hearing the hated name. Is
it too bold figure of speech to say that
Sylvanus w. Kicker hung over my head
suspended by single hair; or to depict him,
in the guise of Fate ready to cut the contin-
uous tenuity of my lie with my own
editorial scissors? His advertisement was
of type. Sylyanus W. Kicker in tull-face
nonpareil stared at me; Sylvanus w. Kicker
in small caps, smiled wickedly at me; in
minion his name Knocked me; in BREWER it
mopped and moved at me; and in italics it
leaned toward me, Kissing the hated syla-
bles. What wonder that when possible
means of escape was offered me that 1
clutched at it as thirsty man grasps at a
straw. Il am not sure whether my rendering
of the proverbial smile just quoted be YER
bally correct-but it appears to me apt and
forcible.)
The Speaker of the Legislature, in muking
up the committees, appointed me upon that
one whose business was change of names.
I submitted with stolid impassiYity. The
room devoted to the proceedings of this COM
mittee was. am sorry to say, heated by an
alright stove, and without sufficient means
of ventilation except as window was occa-
sionally opened, thus sacrificing one or anoth-
err of the committee to the powers that be.
My WEAKNESS of soul and body eliminated
in series of uncomfortable naps-from
which was at times aroused to give my
judicial opinion as to the possible conse-
quences TO the commonwealth should, for
instance, Methuselah Wilkins be permitted
to sign himself henceforth 'tyours truly,
Adolphus Ftz Eustace." always acqui-
esced; if Mr.. wilkins had an aversion to any
name, let his prejudice be gratified by all
means; and if another name were better in
his ears-why then let A. Fitz Eustace ne
Wilkins thank his stars that be could so
easily be made happy.
Upon the 9th of March, as walked slowly
through the corridor of the Legislative Build
ing, encountered man, who, engrossed in
conversation with one of the representatives,
almost ran against me. He was long,
meagre, red-haired man, with an awkward
stoop, and an expression of low cunning
aided by squint. He had an air of vulgar
servility. and his cringing apologies to me
increased my instructive dislike.
The day was chilly and threatened snow;
dull SILVER ran over me as entered our
committee room. The same old grind as
usual, the same formulas, petitions. I fell
into an uneasy sleep. l imagined myself at
sea, wild wind was driving tattered clouds,
dun color with lurid edges, across tempest
uous sky. All, how cold the waves were!
They Tapped hungrily the single plank
between me and watery death, That
one plank bore a name-Sylvanus w.
Why was it l dreamed of water? All
mockery! 1 was in desert, hot wind