Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1881-09-22
The RSitorIslDesk

| feOple nave hcaIu lot ScutuIlco VI Nnc
museum which is contained in 4 boys
pockets, and the wild and dazzling array
Of curiosities from the four quaters of the
globe, which are concealed in the recesses
of young lady's portmonaie, but it has
remained for the heaven-born genius who
pens these lines to write up the editors
desk.
For the sake Of convenience. We will
take our own desk and dissect it.
The desk on which we are writing is a
fiat black walnut arrangement. with
drawers on the left down to the floor, and
pigeon holes on the right, leaving square
aperture between, through which we run
our legs, allowing them to protude about
a yard beyond the desk, and to daily with
the letter-press on the other side. While
writing deep and particularly choice
and allwool editorial, we scratch one
foot against the other aud dig our toes
into the carpet.
We state this simply to enlighten the
average reader on one of the peculiar
phases of genius.
On the top of the desk are the Free
Press Hasrkeye, Oil City Derrick, and
some other exchanges, with their vitals
cut out. Near by are the iron scissors,
with wabbly blades, that have done the
damage.
There is also glass inkstand, with
some coagulated ink and dead flies In it,
a match box with no matches in it, four
cr ippled and disabled pens, a pile of neg
lected and moss covered bills with the
editors name at the head, and apparently
sent by anonymous parties, as there is no
signature at the bottom.
Then there is cobb pipe, with the
end of the stem showed up, and showing
what an inspired grip the editor holds it
by when he writes poem on The Cold,
Dead Memories of the Busted Past.
On top of all these, some blank paper
and manuscript are corded about nine
feet high.
In the first drawer are some envelopes,
an unanswered letter from Queen Vic
toria, and a package of Old Judge
smoking tobacco.
In the second drawer there are lot of
letter heads, some bill heads, poem on
'Towser's Excursion on the Flume," and
a pair of kids once white as the beautiful
snow, but now considerably damaged.
Then there is faded spray of mag
nonette, or catnip or something of that
character, bitsof pale blue ribbon that
fell from her hair in the cherished long
ago, and near it forgotten $50 gold
piece, an annual pass over the Panama
canal, defunct meal ticket and Glove.
In the third drawer is a letter from
Roscoe Conkling acknowledging the re-
ceipt of the last speech we wrote for HIM
and promising US that he would quit
chewing tobacco next fall. Then there
are lots of expired passes over various
eastern roads, an old deck of cards that
we secured at great cost intending to
write caustic article on the vice OF
High, Low, Jack and Game.
In the pigeon-holes are letters from
Eli Perkins and Mr.. Childs, and poem
on 1.-The Sore-Eyed Pollywog's Sorrow
full End" by Henry Ward Beecher, but
having been written on both sides, il
was laid aside.
Then there are also, an assortment OF
fly hooks, some silk line, and leather
covered Etruscan jar, with the almost
forgotten fragrance inside, of rattle
snake antidote and cramp discourager
Then there is leather book wit h
another assortment of hooks, one still
baited with the dried mummy OF a grass
hopper.
Beside these there are two stubs Of
lead pencils, cigar-holder, well-worr
Bible, and confidential postal card from
George Washington, asking if it woul!
be advisable to cross the Delaware on tn,
ice in August.
In little box, snugly imbedded il
jewelers. cotton, is bent and disfgur
ed suspender button rusted with innum
cradle tear drops and grimy with tim,
and disuse. it is all that is mortal O.
the man who asked: SIS this hot enough
for you?-Nye's Boomerong.