The comet. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1877-1882, 1879-12-13
ny VALENTINE vox.

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"Thunderation-he's come again =
He is the newspaper fiend. He's
al,Oays coming, he comes every day
every hour-and we, right here In the
midst of our woe and anguish, solemn
ly predict that unless something Is
done, and done quickly, he will finally
get himself down to the solid work OF
visiting us by the minute. If he
didn't have but ten minutes to spare
before the day Of judgment dawned, 1T
is our firm and infiexible belief that
he'd spend that ten minutes in this
office. In the regularity of his visits
he puts to shame the ticking of the
best eight day clock that ever orna-
mented mantel, and for general
hang-on-ativeness he beats eternity
all hollow.
The newspaper fiend never waits for
an invitation, and he always makes
himself completely at home imme-
diately upon entering. He always in
augurates his arrival by throwing his
worthless carcass upon the very best
seat the sanctum affords, and elevating
his dirty boots upon the table. Then
he knocks over the inkstand and the
glue-pot, reading meanwhile several
sheets of copy for next weeks issue.
firing of this he looks up at us with
a smile that is villainously seductive,
and informs us that if it is "conven-
ientu he'd like to look over few "late
exchanges" And then-blast him
we are compelled to drop everything,
and hand him successfully every jour
nal that reaches the office, from the
"New York Herald" to the "Rocky
Mountain Bugle." Then, after he has
become weary of reading and has
stuffed ten or twelve of our as yet UNI
read exchanges into his thievish peck
ets-t1en he begins to talk to us!
We Gods then is torture abroad in
the land !! He pours it into our right
he pours into our left-he gives it
to us in front, on top, behind-every-
where! Then it is that in the perfec-
ton of our misery we wish we were
A craven image,
Or the rock of Gibraltar,
Or book agent,
Or mummy.
But we have to bear it.
Yea, we are compelled to grin and
bear it.
One of the marked peculiarities of
the newspaper fiend is that he knows
everything-past, present, and future,
and he seems to be saturated with the
idea that it is his only earthly mission
to bestow generous supply of his
knowledge upon poor, wretched, ignor-
ant editors. He always begins his
conversation with most minute ac-
count of the creation of the world, and
winds up with an exact and elaborate
report of Gen. Grants latest speech.
He scorns to be limited at-you might
hit him with hint as big as an Indian
club and he would remain perfectly
of the blow. The editor
who throws out hints to a newspaper
fiend is merely wasting some very
valuable time and breath.
A careful analysis of the mental
of the newspaper fiend re-
veals the fact that he is composed of
one-half cheek and the other half
brass.
He has about as much conscience as
an ordinary hog.
How long-oh, how long will he con-
tinue to visit us?
Every succeeding visit of his leaves
us nearer the grave-the cold and
silent grave.
Unless something is done, we will soon
be numbered among the things that
are past.
Oh that an earthquake would swal
low him,
Or that a tornado would step ON him,
Or that he would emigrate to
Liberia ..
Selah!!