The river press. [volume] (Fort Benton, Mont.) 1880-current, 1882-04-12
La estde Musings.

"Would it be too much trouble for one Of
you gentlemen to tell me where | can find
the literary editor p said a nice looking
young man as he entered the editorial rooms.
ono trouble at all to tell you where he is"
replied the trotting horse reporter . the
main difficulty would be your getting there to
present breasting the sun-kissed pillows of
the limpid lake-at least there is where he
said he was going. He is d yachter.'
ga what ~ asked the young man at the
door,"
ga y~achter-sails around in a boat, and
talks about sbiverlng the timber, and Delay
ing the larry t%oplights, and all such things as
that. You bet he's a daisy navigator-al-
ways carries a compass in his pocket, and
takes observations every sunny afternoon be-
fore he starts for home, getting his bear
ings, he calls it-calls going around a corn
er sjibbing.' whatever that is, and always re-
fers to his overcoat pocket as a 'nlizzen
hatch I'll bet he can distance a Rear-Ad-
miral the first heat when it comes to lug
gtng out nautical terms. Our marine report
er is pretty nifty on such matters-I guess he
could recognize a bobstay if he met one
walking up the street-but the literary editor
would make ]. Fennimore Cooper and Capt.
M. Reed think they were born in Iowa, and
had never been nearer the sea than Keokuk.
He's a tWo-tenner and no mistake"
"What is it you call him 2" again asked
the man at the door.
IA yachter."
"You probably mean a yachtsman," sug-
gested the visitor.
"Probably | dc" was the reply, in a some
what disappointed tone of voice. "a man
can't make a peep around here but what
some duck picks him up on the pronunciation
of a word, and they have done it to me so
often that I expect for the summer is over
they will be trying to give me pointers on
Goldsmith Maids pedigree, or some other
little thing that every school boy ought to
know"
II wish to see the literary editor in regard
to q poem which | would like to see in next
Sundays Tribune said the young man.
"Did you write the poem yourself ?" asked
the horse reporter.
Eyes, sir" was the reply.
II thought So" continued the admirer Of
~Iroquois. 81 thought there cleaned within
your starry eye that weird, haunting look
that enables us to drop on a poet the minute
he shows up. What is your poem about 2"
"Atalanta."
II don't think that's much Of a subject"
said the authority on overhead checks. cat
lanta is only a second class town, anyhow.
Why didn't you wind up your muse for a
few stanzas about Chicago or Deadwood, or
some place where things are lively. That
would give your intellect a chance. You
could just take off the bride and turn loose
on q subject like that"
II rather think that you misapprehend
me" said the poet. "My little effort does
not relate to Atlanta, Ga, but to a person in
classical history-concerning which you are
doubtless in ignorance" and the upper lip
of the poet curled in scorn.
stOh, you mean ATLANTA, do you, instead
of Atlanta" said the horse reporter. "How
thoughtless of me to make such q mistake. ]
suppose you know all about Attic. and the
big steeplechase she was in.
We'll said the poet, in a hesitating a
ner, ssof course ! am familiar with the clas-
sics, but it has never come under my ossefy-
alton that Atalanta was ever the heroine of
any such episode as the one to which you
allude."
.sDidn't know she was on the turf, and
won the ~liveliest race ever run in Arcadia.
mo, sir, / did not" replied the poet.
ssThen you are not so sweetly fly IS | took
you to be-" said the horse reporter, land ]
will you a few pointers on Grecian history
and sweep away with the dimpled hand OF
knowledge the cobWebs Of ignorance thai