Mexico weekly ledger., 1882-11-16
SMALL TALK.

1t is neitherC Christmas norJudgment
Day. AT the same time you see men
whose faces portray great happiness.
Others who reflect the doom that will
be theirs in time to come. AS you
are ushered suddenly INTO a mans
office, you see him slip out the back
way and shoot up the alley. The
boys say: 1.-The Loss has gone to the
country" As you step across the
street to enter another friends Office,
you meet a young man coming out
with a ''blanket and club" He in
forms you there is no need to go in,
the proprietor Is tout of town." You
ponder and wonder why you a find
no n in. No cyclone or earthquake
has been prophesied for this particu-
lar day. There is no circus
out in the country, and fishing is
not good. AS you turn the corner
a dapper, sprightly young man says:
s'Hello, first man I've found to-day.
This is the first day of the month. and
I have a little ticket against you."
You tell him to call tomorrow, as
you are going to the country, and
have no change. 1t is all plain. 1t
is the first day of the month, and the
''hends'' are abroad.
II.
This is neither an old pillow. o an
iron wedge. 1t looks like a saw, but
it is a knife. 1t belongs to the editor
and is used for sharpening pencils,
killing reaches, opening champagne
bottles and cutting the hearts out of
book-agents and bad men who come
into the Office to whale the reporters.
There Is blood Oh the blade of the
knife, but the editor will calmly lick
it off and the blade will be as clean
and bright as ever. The knife cost
seven-five or thirty cents, and was
imported from London-Connecticut.
If you are good perhaps the editor
will give it to you to cut off the dogs
tail. Editors are dangerous men with
a knife-in their minds. If you talk
back to them they will cut-around
the corner, and shoot-up an alley.
The only men who are injured by |
editors are the men who are forced to
read what they write, especially that
which they appropriately call s'small-
talk"
Three Il dogs with h%en-coops over
their mouths appear, leading three
seedy, hungry looking darkeys. A
wood-house on stills, hauled by a
sick looking jackass, moved through
the streets. The small boy and
Ethiopian man follow, and make
day hideous with their yells. A gen.
tleman from bondage with a nail keg,
which he beats with a soup-bone, takes
the lead. A white man with a last
winters stove-pipe. and an history
of the rebellion brings up the rear.
An Uncle Toms Cabin Company is
making a street parade.
".
Is this a man? No; he is a prod
ICY in every of the word. He
is going to move mountains and set
rivers on fire. He is going to EXTERN
mate monopolies and extinguish cor
porations. He is loaded and shoots
off at half-coek. He is going to re-
form the morals of the public, purify
political parties, and refine the world.
He will make black white, and de-
stroy all bad wherever it can be
found. He is posted. He knows
how to set a hen on the hillside.
What he does not know would not fill
a patent country newspaper. The
world trembles as he moves. All
men fear his disfavor. He can tell
who will he elected and why. He
knows more about the weather and
crops than the "oldest inhabitant."
This is the man who thinks be was
called to be an editor. How beauti-
full are the feet of those who are
called. Wait till he runs up against a
book-agent. Then he will know the
world was not made for him and him
alone, but that it win move on after
him as it did before,