Mexico weekly ledger., 1880-11-11
The sfortnary Poet

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with an odd mixture of sorrow and
resignation on his lean countenance,
and he dropped into the Office with
the mysterious whisper Of
ssShe's gone.''
who's gomez" asked the clerk.
"Maria.'
"Who in thunder's Maria?''
''My wife; she's gone.''
"Gone where!"
Cup above-tlied last night-want
you to put it in your next issue.''
"What allied her. %
"Lockjaw. 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,
and I'll see that everything is fixed
up all right
Accordingly, the clerk scribbled
away for a moment, handed out what
he had written for inspection, and
curtly remarked:
dollar thirty-fve."
The bereaved husband read it over
carefully, and finally gave sigh of
satisfaction.
"That's all right" he said, hand
ing over the required specie, "but
l s'pose you could put a verse on
the end. couldn't you?''
"Well, yes," ruminatcd the clerk,
''guess so. What kind of verse do
you want?"
Somethin' tender-like an sor-
rowfnl."
"How would this do?'' asked the
clerk, scratching his head with the
end of his penholder.
"A perfect female folks did consider her,
She's gone and left weepin' widower."
''That's kinder melancholy" re-
tiected the stranger, Shut I reckon
it's leetle-jest leetle--too per-
sonal. just you try it again. /
don't mind putin up hansum for
sumthun' that'iI rake folks heart
strings"
The clerk gazed at the ceiling for
a moment, aud then suggested:
THE husbands lost a wife,
The children ma,
Died on Friday night,
From the lockjaw."
eyes, broke out the mourner,
wiping his nose with black -bordered
handkerchief, ''but you see l dom,
own any young 'uns.'
"What do you think of this, tien?''
''She always was contented.
At life she'd never carp
Gone to be an angel.
And play Oh a goldeV harp
''Don't believe that'li suit. You
see Mariar couldn't even play on {
pianner, an l know a harp would
stump her, sure. Poor woman; she
had a tender heart, though, ant
made the most elegant biscuit yot
ever saw"
Hanged if l won't have to charge
you EXTRA" growled the clerk. 81
amt a Longfellow or Tennyson."
81 KNOW" meekly replied th'
"weepin' widower." 'Jest try one,
more, won't your"
SO the clerk did try, and at las
SrOunu out INC IOIlONlDS:
"on earth could not stay Marian.
SO she died and went up higher
"Sorter irreverent, amt it?'
anxiously asked Maria's relict. ''
, reckon wouldn't grudge a couple Q
dollars for bang-up verse"
Thus stimulated the machine poe
became suddenly inspired, and eS
ulting produced:
Cry for Maria
Alas she is no more
Joined the singing seraphs
Upon the other shore
+ The afflicted one uneasily took
t chew of tobacco, and whispered:
Beautiful but there's one thin
1 that spiles it. Mariar hadn't an
: more melody in her than an oil
plow, an it's deliberit lyin' to spea
Of her as vocalist. None of thel
other syrups (seraphs) you allude
4 could keep time with her."
: "Well," thoughtfully remarke
4 the discounted clerk, ''if this ain
o all o. X you'll have to hire speci
S poet; I'm played out:
G "Affiiction sore
b, Long time she bore.
: Physicians were in vain;
: oekjaw ketched her,
Death it fetched her
Gone to rise again.
"rell you what" enthusiasticall
exclaimed the widower, "that's iii
top. Here's your two dollars you''
airnt them. A young man that &c
! make ND sich affectin' lines as the