New-York tribune., 1877-03-14

flung himself abroad with largo and incOherent
flaming upon the stump and in various news
papers. but in the confusion he was. scarcely
identified. He now proposes, quiet having sue
ceeded. to impress himself on the age. AS
some deaf deacon struggling vainly with the
hymn comes tagging on verse behind the
choir, and standing up alone undaunted
howls out his closing lines, so Pulitzer with ms
high falsetto keeps on and on, though the music
of the organ has ceased and the congregation
has dispersed and the sexton waits to close
the church. The minstrels have an act in
which very lively darky dances to banjo
accompaniment a wild sort Of breakdown, the
action of which increases in excitement and
bolsterousness with every step. In the midst
of it the banjo player steps out and the accom-
paniment stops, but the dancer keeps right on
without noticing it for several minutes, when,
his attention being called to the musicians
vacant seat, he stops short and sinks away.
Now. we would not for the world have any
thing said or done to mOrtify this remarkable
person, Mr.. Pulitzer, but really isn't there
some Democratic minstrel who is willing to
pull his coat tail and tell him his accOmpani-
ment has ceased9 He ought to have gone out
with the banjo players, and they've been gone
now nearly fOrtnght.W We suppose the truth to he
that Mr. Pulitzer has a very able voice. and when
he once pitches it it isn't easy either to sop it
or change the key. That kind Of voice is
sometimes dangerous thing to have. There
is story with which our readers are doubtless
familiar, of lady who having that kind of
voice, and having pitched it for conversation
with friend during the playing of the Orches-
ira, startled the whole theater at a sudden stop
in the music with the shrill remark, owe fry
"ours in butter" She had pitched her
voice to run along with the Orches-
ira, and when the orchestra stopped
her voice kept on, standing out from the
sudden silence like the nest of a bank swal-
low from which the sand has fallen away,
leaving the hole sticking out of the ground.
1t strikes us that Pulitzer pitched his voice
for outdoor speaking, accompanied by brass
bands, some months ago. He ought to be told
that the bands have all stopped playing, aud
that nobody cares how he fries his
We do not know where Pulitzer now is.
Who he is indeed we do not know, except
that he bounded into the late Presidential
campaign with such a suddenncss and bump
"tiOusucss" and loudncss and such eifllsve-
ness and prevalence that good old Mr.. Tliden
couldn't make out for a while whether he or
Pulitzer was running for the Presidency, and
never has been entirely clear about it since Pulit-
zer first burst upon him. Our impression Is that
Puitzer is by vocation a scribe. During the
campaign he principally howled. He got some
what in the habit of it. We do not know
whether the things we see in the newspapers
attributed to him are the things he says to
somebody in the open air or the things he writes
out and gets printed. However that may be,
they are sulphurOus and phosphOrescent, and
calculated to fire the heart of anybody who has
lost post-oilice by leading seven spot when
his adversary held the eight. During the past
month he has "cussed" in large and hearty
way pretty much everybody and everything,
from Madison Wells to CrOnin's nose: judg-
ing from the extracts of him in the papers,
he is now Ovcrhauling with pitchfork, by
way of review, the career of the venerable
gentleman at Gramercy Park who was lately
known as a standard bearer, but is now said
to be colder II Il dam clam" And we must
say that, considering the services are over
and the benedctOn pronounced, Pulitzer Is
more dcmOnstratlve than seems necessary.