The river press. [volume] (Fort Benton, Mont.) 1880-current, 1882-03-15
isIkiGk r
The Critic.

SIS the literary editor out ?" asked a rather
subdued looking young man as he gently
opened the door of the editorial rooms and
peered furtively into the apartment.
'You bet he's out" replied the trotting
horse reporter ; %"somebody sent in for him
to review a book on how to compute logar-
i;hms, and the literary editor is allowing the
full effulgence of his radiant brain to illu-
mine that little work just now-you'll see a
daisy notice Of it in the paper next Satur-
day"
''What I want to know" said the mild
looking young man, "was whether"
ooh, / know what ails you," interrupted
the young man who once attempted to con-
vince the editor that Iroquois was OF more
value than a protective tariff when it came
to keeping British gold in the country, 'that
table-cloth collar of yours and the little
thimble hat on your head gave away your
racket to me as soon as you turned into the
homestretch so that | could get a good look
at you. Unless you are a ringer, and trotting
out of youI class, you have in the right hand
inside pocket of your coat a poem which you
would like to have printed in Sundays paper.
1t is written on foolscap paper, in a very
plain hand. All this is certain and we are
prepared to bet seven to four on it to any
amount. Am / giving it to you right 2 and
the biographer Of Goldsmith Maid smiled
affably.
"You are certainly correct, sir, said the
young man, ''and if you would be so kind
as to-"
"Don't sly any more" was the response,
I can see by the way you score down to the
word exactly what class you are in. just
| plant yourself in the corner ever there and
boot forth your madrigal or song and dance,
or whatever it is. / can pipe you off from
here all right"
The young man looked somewhat surpris-
ed, but took the position indicated. AID read
as follows:
| All! ne'er can I forget that happy day
When YOU and mot thinking it amiss,
And no one seeing who might betray-
Each to the other gave q rapturous kiss.
| / felt the passion pulses of your heart,
Responsive like an echo to my own,
Your dreamy eyes and dewy lips apart
Overwhelmed me with o thrill l ne'er had known.
Since then, / know not whether tn GU hast kept
The kiss l gave; nor whether in thy nightly rest
Dreaming, thy arms have wandered whilst thou slept
Seeking to again fold me to thy breast.
I only feel that thou art strangely changed;
AS thou were warm, SO art thou calm and cold;
L Tl.I, ,oopcoicu Univ fhnr arn oafrQnppd
Burn with the passions | gave thee of old.
at reads pretty smooth, doesn't it?" ssid
the self constituted critic to the law-reporter
The latter individual nodded assent.
"But that's just the kind of Cruel that
EASY to write,' continued the critic, ''almos
ANYBODY can grind out slush like that-some
thing that rhyme every other line, and no
shift its gate. I could make a pretty fai
bluff at it myself"
sAllow me to suggest, sir" said the mild
young man who had been doing the reading
.shat poetry is a flower of the soul-a ten
der plant that thrives only where Genius
exists. I may venture to assert that no per
son. unless gifted with the true poetic fire
can write verses
"Well. my bonny sucker" replied the e <
ponent of turf law, t'just to show you how
far from the pole you are trotting | will Civ
Won a little exhibition of speed. Gimme
pencil, somebody
The pencil was produced, and the trottinf
horse reporter began to write. In q few min
utes he had fin;ched.
.Now this stuff" he said to the poet, I'll
in Jus. the same metre as yours. Ever.
other line rhymes, just as yours, and it tell