The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1878-09-12
"Hore Copy"

In the sanctum, cold, and dreary, sat
the writer, weak, and weary, pOnd'ring
DER memorandum book of items used
before-(book of scrawling head-notes
rater; items taking daysto gather them
in cold and WintTy weather, using up
much time and leatherl-pOndered we
these items DER. While we conned
them, slowly rocking, through our mind
queer ideas fiocking, came quick and
nervous knocking, knocking at the
sanctum door. Sure ttet must be
Jinks," we muttered, ''Jinks that's
knocking ri our sanctum door; Jinks
the everlasting bore" All. well do we
remind us, III the walls which then con-
Gned us, the exchanges lay behind and
before Us, and around us, all scattered
Ger the floor. Thought we: links
wants to borrow some newspapers till
tomorrow, and twill be relief from
som0w TO get rid Of Jinks the bore"
Still the visitor kept knocking, knock
ing louder than before.
And the scattered pile of paper. cut
some rather curious capeTS, being lifted
by the breeZes coming through another
door; and we wished (the wish is evil,
for one deemed always civil that Jinks
was at the devil, 10 stay there ever
more; there to find his leyel-Jiuks, the
everlasting bore!
Bracing up our patience firmer, then
without another murmur, MI. Jinks,n
said we, your pardon, your forgive
ness we implore. But the fact is, we
were reading Of some curious proceed
ing, aud thus it WAS. unhceding your
loud rapping there before" Here we
opened wide the door. But phancy
ROW our pheelinks-f0r it wasn't Jinks
the b0re-Jinks, nameless eyermore.
But the form that stood before us,
caused trembling to come DER us, and
memory brought us back again TO days
Of yore; days when items were in plen-
ty, and whene'er the writer went lie
picked up items by the score. Twas
the form Of our devil, = in attitude un-
civil; and he thrust his head within the
open door, with The foreman's out of
copy, sir, and says he wants some
mOre,'
Now, this local had already walked
about till nearly dead; he had sauntered
through the city till his feet were very
sore; walked through the street called
Evans, and in the byways running off
into portions Of the city, both public
and obscure; had examined stores and
cellar, and had questioned every feller
whom he met, from door TO door, if
anything was stirring, anything occur
ring not published heretofore; and had
met with no success; he would rather
kinder guess he felt a litiln vinknA "t
tho ugly iittI0 bore, with his message
from the foreman that he Wanted Il some
thing more.
"Now it's time you were departing.
you scamp" cried we upstarting; get
Won back into the office, Office where
YOU were before; or the words that yOu
have spoken, will get your bones all
broken land we seized a cudgel oakeu
that was lying on the floor, take your
hands out Of your pockets, and leave
the sanctum door; tell the foreman
there's no copy, you ugly little bore. {"
Quoth our devil: "Send him more."
And our devil, never sitting, still is
ditii e, still is tiitting, back and forth
upon Tie landing just outside the sane
tum door. Tears ad0wn his cheeks are
streaming, a strange light from his
eyes is beaming, and his voice is heard
still screaming, 'SIr, the foreman
wants some more"