Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1882-04-28
Myrtle Dear.
Chicago Tribune.

(Which editor do l want to see"
asked young man who was smoking
a ciparet, and wore hat about the
size and shape of tablespoon, as he
Opened the door of the editorial rooms
Yesterday afternoon and gazed about
him in an inquiring way.
"Well," said the trOtting-hOrse re-
porter, ceasing for an instant his laborS
i'm connection with sketch of the life
and career of Passaic, "yOu look as II
YOU really ought to see the editor with
the club, but probably l am mistaken.
AS general friend of humanity, how
ever, / wonld advise you to shoot the
torch"
"Do what, SIR" inquired the young
man.
"Shoot the torch-put out that dizzy
little street-pipe.'
"Do you mean this cigarette" asked
the visitor.
"Tnat's it," was the reply. "IOu just
drop that thing or else sherry your
self round the corner. We get enough
cigarette smoke from young ducks that
come around here saturday with society
items"
The yOnng man threw away the
cigarette. al wanted to know" he said,
''who it would be proper for me to see
in regard to apoem"
ooh, it would be proper enough for
you To see anybody" replied the Dog
rapher of Passiac. There is nothing
inherently improper about poem, eX-
cept the fact of its having been written.
suppose your verses are something
about "The spring is coming, Myrtle,
dear, o meet me by the creek, or some
thing like that-sOmething sluShy ana
sloppy, that jibes in naturally with wet
weather and muddy roads?'
"Well, not exactly" said the poet.
"But perhaps / might read it to YOU"
"Perhaps YOU might if were chained
to post and couldn't get away, but not
otherwise. | am too sweetly fly, 10
weirdly on to your racket to allow my
self to be played for Il Chinaman. You
will have to hunt up somebody with
more MacOupin County look III his clear,
blue eve if YOU want that poem list
cned to. / am sorry, my winsome
cEump, but you are bowling on the
wrong alley"-and the Life of PasSaic
was again resumed.
Iwish YOU would let me read this poem
toyou," said the child of genius in the
doorway. "Thcre is only one stanza."
well, cut her loose" was the reply.
The poet produced sheet of paper
and read rs follows.
Meet me in the glen, dear,
Where the mOOnheanS bright
On the nOdding daisies
Cast their SilNcrS light
Pluck for me a flower
Irvine 10 in your hair
! shall know YOU love me
If see II there.
"How do you like it," asked the poet,
| as he finished reading.
"Oh, it's good enough, l suppose"
| was the reply, "but we've got too
much daisy and glen poetry on hand
now. And then all that kind OF verse is
only a sort of literary bram-mash after
| all. Now, no young man with head
as big us pin would go around asking
| girls to meet him in Il glen when the
| moon is up. That's no way to act II
| YOU really want to lasSoo the affections
of an innocent maiden, because when a
! girl has eaten a good, square supper she
doesn't feel like tramping around glen
| and picking flowers to stick in her hair.
| ANY such scheme as that would rumple
up her bangs too much, and like as not
| tear her invisible net. And then there
! aint any glCns around Chicago-glens
| flourish best in the country where the
COWS go to sleep on the sidewalk, so you
| can fall over them when you come
home late. Now, suppose this poem
| of yours was intended for the eye OF
some particular lady, some Cook County
| Juliet whose papa keeps soulleSs dog
| that declines to share the front yard
with YOU. Isn't that about the size of it?'
| and the horse reporter winked vigorous
ly at the poet.
"Well, yes; that is, /"
ooh, know all about it, interrupted
st. Jullen's friend. You are little
hashful about it-a kind of Eighteenth
Ward maidenly reserve. Well, that's a
credit to you. l would give 81 if |
could blush like that; but you are on the
wrong tack. Quit writing to this girl
about glens, and moonlight, and roses
Ifyou must express your sentiments in
verse whOOp her up chanson in a style
she can understand-Som like
this, for instance:
meet me on the corner
where they sell ice-cream,
Life shall be for you, love,
Like olissful dream.
Cling to me. my darling,
As vine hugs the oak,
And when you're done eating,
shall be dead broke.
"Now, that ought to land her." said
the horse reporter, because, as rule,
girls are very partial to pathos and ice
cream-you can bet on that"
'Can l?n said the poet. Well, I'll try
Your plan, sir"
"That's the daisy racket to catch a
girl" said the horse reporter in chsery
tones" Love ana shady glens are all
right, but when it comes down to bust
mes / want pool on the young man
that buys ice-cveam."