Middletown transcript., 1881-09-02
AnEHRrfsINa FRAnns.

liVer-pad men OF proprietOrs OF some
sort of patent stuff that is guaranteed
to put sick man in fighting trim in
five minutes by the family clock. They
are bad lot, generally. They have
been weighed in the hay-Scales and
found wanting-a good deal. They
always want more than they can get
from the TRANSCRIPT. Sometimes
they want a notice about a tape-wOrm,
mixed i'll among our editorials and
loaded up to look like one of our own
fnely-rounded efforts about the ''yanity
of earthly cares or the sOmbre aw-
fulness of the mysterious beyond" !" We
are not running paper on that sort of
broad-gauge style. We shall strictly
adhere to the rule laid down when we
first took seat on the editorial ink
keg, that is, never to allow anybody to
lie in our editorial columns but our
self.
Our experience with liver-pad men
has not been sweet and soothing to the
mind. The only one we ever adver-
tised for was to pay quarterly, but,
alas, his mother-in-law died after a
short illness, mourned by all who knew
her. and he asked us to wait a few
weeks until his grief subsided suffi-
GENTLY for him to draw a cheek. We
are still waiting and we have heard no
more from the grief-stricken liver-pad
man. Perhaps he has died of grief,
though, more likely, he is silent whilst
he concocts new scheme to swindle
some more guileless newspapers out of
advertising space.
Another liver-pad man sent us cut
Of a fair youth clothed in nothing but
a liyer-pad, glad smile and button
hole bouquet. This costume didn't
seem to us to be exactly az fat, SO we
declined to shove it up in conspicu-
GUS position at three dollars an inch
per year, payable at end Of time. Peo-
pie dressed in a costume like that
couldn't move in polite society. We
can't put anybody's picture in our
paper unless he's got some more clothes
on than that. We're not running an
illustrated weekly just now, anyway,
as the cut of our old Nihilist is at the
blacksmith shop having the nose ham
mered out so that he will work in for
a picture Of Guiteau that we expect to
publish shortly.
Another advertisement that has come
to this office and gone into the waste
basket is some sort of a new game that
is warranted to cure a man of spinal
pneumonia and pleuro-meninginitus,
etc. by electricity. In the advertisement
there is the picture Of the side eleva-
tiOn of fair girl with chunk Of some
thing hanging down her back by a
string around her neck. 1t looks like
a piece of iron. 1t may be a bridge
bolt or it may be an old hasp off the
cellar door, At least the girl. don't
look comfortable with that sort Of an
arrangement hanging down her back,
and we don't believe she is. 1t may be
| a good medicine, and the inventor of it
may himself believe every lie that he
tells, but he can't explain the way it
works with an illustration in our
paper.
An enterprising old fraud in New
York last week sent us an advertise
ment, in payment of which he prom
ised to give US S36 worth Of stomach
pads. Think of this, kind reader.
Just pause for few moments and let
this preposterous proposition sort of
diffuse itself through your mind.
Thirty-eight dollars worth Of stomach
pads for one baldheaded country editor !!
We cast the proposition into our waste
| basket with scOrn. We paced the floor
with an agitated mind. Pretty figure
we would cut, running around clothed
in our usual Thoughtful mood and a
stOmach-pad, and cold weather but
little more than month off. No, sir,
Mr. stomach-pad man, you cannot de-
ceive US with your artfully-worded cir
culars that such a costume will become
fashionable. What would our friends
say, who have stood by us through
thick and thin, and, in times of mis-
fortune, carried us home on a shutter,
and whom we have sworn never to dis
grace DON'T try to tempt us with your
old stomach-pads. Advertise them in
patent outside.
We are not running this paper only
for glory and to make people mad. We
want to lay back little something for
the snow storms Of the sweet bye-and-
bye. We can't clothe ourself in stom-
ach-pads, or eat galvanic spikes as a
steady thing. We should soon sigh for
a change, and it would not be small
sized sigh either. The days of our joy
Gus robustness are fast passing away,
and yet we have no spiked-tail coat to
gladden. our heart on Sundays. We
must have regular pay in current funds
for our advertising space OF the future
will be nothing to us but cold, cheer
less sheriff's sale and valedictory.
We are modest in our expectations.
Our wants are few, but it seems to us
if we expect to ever own a humble
mansion with two cast-iron dogs on
the front porch, and gold-headed
cane, to cheer us in our declining years,
that now in the sunny hour of youth is
the time to lay hold of the funds. We
can't always publish a newspaper at
two dollars year in advance. After a
while nature will exert itself and we
will want to sit down in the gentle
springtime and rest till Christmas.
Where will we he then if we have ac-