The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1879-07-10
Value keceiI ed.
Burlington Hawkeye,

ANYBODY could tell what ne had.
Every man in the sanctum knew in q
minute. The timid knock at the door
gave him clear away at the very start.
No man or woman ever knocks at a
sanctum door unless he comes on that
fatal errand. Then he came inside and
took off his hat and bowed all round
the room, when every man on the staff
roared out, in terrible chorus, Come
in ! % Then he asked for the editor,
and when the underlings, with a fine
mingling of truth and grammar, pointed
to the youngest and the newest man in
the Office and yelled, That's him p he
walked up to the young gentleman des-
ignated, and before he could unrol his
manuscript we knew the subject of it,
and a deep groan echoed around the
room.
"Poetry, young man % asked the
editor. " Yes, sir" said the poet, Ga
couple of triolets and q sonnet on the
marriage of my sister with an old college
friend"
cold college friend, male or female,
young man 7'' asked the editor, severely.
"Any more askedshess principal inter-
locutor, anything more, young man p
q Yes, Sit" was the hopeful response, ga
thren9dy in memory of my departed
brother"
Brother dead, young man, or only
gone to Sagetown p "Dead, SIR
Your own brother ?" Z" No. sir !
never had a real brother; it's only i'm,
aginary."
Male, sir" said the young man.
He said ''sir," every time, and every
time he said it, all the young gentlemen
who personated the governor, snickered.
He looked severe.
Anything more, young man ~ he
asked. Yes, sir" replied the infant
Tennyson, "a kind of idyl, an ode ins
scribed TO My Lost Love-"
Love been lost very long, young
man ?";;ssked the journalist, very critie
cally. Well, it's 1mmaterisl, that is
stammered the young man, sits indie
fnite-it's-"
Ever advertise for it," asked the
reporter who was writing puff tor Slab 6
tombstOnes, but he was instantly frowned
down
Can't take this, then, young man, +"
was the chilling reply. Poetry, to
dnd acceptance with the HaWkeye, must
be true. Have to reject this threnody,
not because it is not very beautiful, but
because it is not true. Now, how much
do you want for these others ?" And be
fingered them over like q man buying
mink skins.
The poet really didn't know. He
had never published before he had
barely dared hope to have his verses
published at all. A few copies of the
paper containing them would, he was
sure
oh, no, the editor broke in " oh
no, no sir, can't do that; we don't dc
business that way F; if a poem or sketch
is worth publishing, it is worth paying
tor. Would fifteen dollars satisfy you fol-
| these 2"
The roet blushed to the floor with
gratitude, and the young Journalist
grandly wrote out an order and handed
it to the poet.
50 Take that to the courthouse" he
said, and the auditors clerk will give
you the money"
The poet bowed and withdrew, anC
with great merriment the journalist.
burned his poems and resumed their
work.
That wasn't the funny part of it
! however. The next day the simple,
minded poet presented his order to the
clerk designated. And 1t was so that
the clerk owed the paper eighteen dol
lars for subscription and advertising
and he promptly cashed the order and
turned it in when his bill was presented
and the manager just charged it to the
salary account OF the smart young jour,
nalist who signed the order, and the
happiest man aud the maddest man in
Americ are living in Burlington. One
OF them is happy, green, unsophistica'
ted young machine poet, the other is 6
wide-awake, up to snuff, know-the-world
get-upNand>dust young Journalist, wins
is already q rival of Horace Greedy il
some of the verbal departments of jour
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