Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-12-24
WHAT'S IN A NAME?

While we were bordering over divers
and sundry welghty matters in our edit
orial boudoir, our reverie was suddenly
knocked galley west by the entrance Of
a remarkably ILL looking, dirty and aro-
matte mortal with face unshaven, hair
unkempt, and vindictive glimmer in
his rheumy eyes. Stopping in front Of
the divan upon which our Godlike form
reclined, he turned his poll and spit at
cuspidor standing about six feet away,
missing it by an overwhelming majority
and completely submerging one of the
artificial daisies that decorated the car
pet. Then, as he scratched his head
energetically, he queried: "Be you the
chump what writes up the p'lice news q
In the dulcet tones peculiar to us we
answered that we were the person who
did that work, but were not a chump. if
we had the gilt-edged felicity of know
ing anything about it.
"Well, you be star chump," he an
swered, as he expectorated full at one
of our elm slippers that rested in a cor
uer, hitting the pretty green rabbit on
he slipper and changing its color with
a rapidity that would have astonished
the most tickle chameleon. eyes, you
betcher sweet life you are a chumper,
you're u. g.-no earthly use. You're a
buttermilk face guy, and was picked be-
fore the sun had chance to shine on
you," he continued. Then he discharged
another mouthful of tobacco juice, this
time at statue of Venus, hitting it fair
ly in the sinister ear, and little saffron.
colOred rivulets commenced playing
tag down that side of the divine
shape. 1t looked very much as if the
goddess of love had the running ear
ache. We mildly insinuated that we
we're not hog; we knew when we had
enough-even of tobacco juice. We
also asked him what he meant by ad-
dressing such harsh names to us.
"Well," he replied, as he removed
the qrid of tobacco from his mouth and
fred it at bust of Lincoln that rested
on the bookcase, hitting it square in the
mouth, "Tll tell you what makes me SO
hot. My name is John G. r. Wiley.
About two weeks ago I was pulled up
and sent to Jail for bein' tramp. That
are all right. Mex day this jammed
paper gev my name as John Williams.
That are not all right, and such fowery
breaks with my name I'll kick against.
I want my name in the paper correck.
1t looks considerable to this here chicken
as if you are a chump, or else you fellers
has put up racket on me wich I won't
stand. And you had better tie a nice
little piece of yaller yarn around your
finger SO as you won't fur-get it"
We felt very much relieved after find
ing out the cause of his wrath, and told
him that it was mistake on our part.
and we would rectify it in the next issue
OF the paper.
"Well, you'd better" he replied, eff
you don't, I'll make the babies in this
block whine. Please recolleck that this
bluejay have chanted his most elegant
est hymn" Then, after filling his coat
pockets with oranges and grapes from
the fruit dish on the table, and blowing
his nose on the carpet. he gllded out.
When his silvery footsteps had ceased
to echo through our marble halls we
glanced around us, and came to the con-
clusion that there was a good deal more
in name than we had ever dreamed of
in orr sapience, and we firmly resolved
to bear it IN mind hereafter. -Excho,a0e.