The Brookhaven ledger. (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1875-1883, 1877-07-12
Wanted a Verse on the End.

,
an odd mixture Of sorrow and resigna-
ton on his lean countenance, ana ne
dropped upon the startled advertising
clerk of the--well, to save trouble we
won't locate the paper, but call 1t the
the SaaduY Union, with mys-
terious whisper Of
"She's goDel"
"Who's gomez asked the clerf.
"Marier.
"Who in thunders Marier?'
MY wife; she's gone!'
"Gone where?' .....
Cup above---dicd last night;
want You to put it in your next issue. "
"What allied her?"
"Lockiaw; she lay for three weeks
and couldn't speak. Never had such a
quiet time in the house before. just
do the notice up fine will you.. an I'll
see that every thing is fixed up all
right"
Accordingly the clerk scribbled away
for a moment, handed out what he had
written for inspection and curtly re
marked:
Dollar thirty-fye."
The bereavcd husband read it over
carefully, aud finally gave a sigh OF
satisfaction
THAT'S all right" said he, handing
over the required specie, but | spose
you could put u verse on the end,
couldn't you?"
"Well, yes, ruminated the clerk, 81
guess 50. What kind Of verse do you
want?'
"Sumthin' tender like and sorrow
GLOW would this do?" asked the
clerk. scratching his head with the end
of his ponholder:
"A perfect female, folks did consider her,
She's gone and left weepin' widower!'
"That's kinder melancholy" reflects
ed the stranger, but | reckon its lee
tle--iust a leetle--too person
al. Jest you try again. [ don't mind
putin up hansum for sumthin' that Il
rake folks heart strings"
The clerk gazed at the ceiling for q
moment, and then suggested:
"The husbands lost a wife,
| The children ma,
Died on Friday night
From the lockjaw."
eyes" broke out the mourner, wip.
ing his nose on black bordered hand,
kerchief, but L don't own any young
uns.'
"What DO you think of this, then?--
"She always was contented;
At life she'd never carp
Gone to be an angel
And play on a golden harp"
"Doht believe thatll suit. You see,
Marier couldn't even play on plan
ner, and l know harp would stump
| her, sure. Poor woman, she had ten
der heart, though, and make the most
elegant biscuit you ever saw"
"Hanged if / won't have to charge
YOU extral' growled the clerk u
amt a Longfellow or Tennyson,
Il know, " mqeldy replied tie ''weep-
in widower." jest Try once more,
won you!'
! SO tie CLERK did try, and at last
ground out the following:
"On earth could not stay Maricr,
So she died and went up higher"
'Sortcr ilreverent, amt it?" anxious
| ly asked Marier's rcIict. Il reckon l
wouldn grudge a couple of dollars for
I q bang up verse.
Thus stimulated, the machine>poet
became suddenly inspired, and exult-
irg produced:
"Cry for Marier,
! Alas she is no more
Joined the singing seraphs
| Upon the other shore"
The afflicted one uneasily took chew
of tobacco, and whispered:
beautiful. brt there's one thing
that spies it. Marier hadn't any more
melody in her than an old plough, an
Its deliberit lyin' to speak of her as a
vocalist. None Of them other svrups'
(seraphs) ''you alluded to could keep
time with her"
"Well" thoughtfully remarked the
discounted Wood, "if this amt all O.,
K. you'll have to hire special poet;
I'm played Out
".tfiiiction sore
Long time she bore
Physicians we're in vain.
Lockiaw ketched her,
| Death it fetched her,
Gone--to rise again
"Iell You what" enthusiastically
exclaimed the wiLower, that's tip-top.
Here's your two dollars; you've airnt
them. A young man that can make up
sich affectin' lines as them has a glori-
Gus futur before him."
And squeezing the exhausted poet s
hand, the elated speaker left in search
of pair of black kid d-gloves.