The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891, 1883-08-02
The YOumOrist.


"You are an youmorist, are you
not?" queried long-billed pelican ad-
dressing thoughtful, mental athlete
on the Milwaukee &c st. Paul Road the
other dry.
"Yes, SIR" said the sorrowful man.
brushing away a tear. II am an you
morist. am not very much so; but
still can see that 1 am drifting that
way. And yet was once joyous and
happy as you are. Only a few years
ago, before was exposed to this mala-
DIV, was as blithe as q speckled year
ling, and rocked not of aught-nor any
thing else, either. Now my whole life
is blasted. / do not dare to eat pie or
preserves, and no one tells funny sto-
ries when am near. They regard me
as professional, and when get in sight
the scrub nine close up and wait for
me to entertain the crowd and waddle
around the ring"
"What do you mean by that?" muir
INJURED the purple-nosed interrogation
point.
"MeanP Why, mean that whether
I'm drawing a salary or not, I'm ex-
pected to be the life of the party /
don't want to be the life of the party.
/ want to let some one else be the life
of the party. want to get up the rep
utation of being as cross as bear with
a sore head. want people to watch
their children for fear I'll swallow
them. l want to take my low-cut even
ing dress smile and put it in the bu-
reau-drawer, and tell the world I've got
cancer in my stomach and the heaves
and hypochondria, and malignant case
of leprosy."
"Do you mean to say that you do not
feel facetious all the time, and that you
get weary of being an youmorist?"
eyes, hungry interlocutor. Yes,
low-browed student, yes. am not al
ways tickled. Did you ever have a
large, angry and abnormally protuber-
ant boil somewhere on your person
where it seemed to be in the wayp Did
you ever have such boil as a travelling
companion and then get introduced to
people as an youmorist? You have not?
Well, then, you do not know all there
is of suffering in this sorrow-streaked
world. When wealthy people die why
don't they endow cast-iron castle with
bridge to it and call it the you
morists' retreat? Why don't they do
some good with their money instead OF
fooling it away on those who are COM
paratively happy?"
"But how did you come to git to be
an youmoristf'
"Well, don't know. blame my
parents some. They might have pre-
vented it If they'd taken it in time. but
they didn't. They let it run on till it
got established and now it's no use to
90 to the Hot Springs or to the mount
aims, or have an operation performed.
You let a man get the name of being an
youmorist and he doesn't dare to reg
lister at the hotels, and he has to travel
anonymously and mark his clothes with
his wife's name or the public will lynch
him if he doesn't say something you
morous.
"Where is your boy to-nightP'' con-
tinued the gloomy humorist. "Do you
know where he is? Is he at home under
your watchful eye or is he away some
where mailing the handles on his first
little joke? Parents, beware. Teach
your boy to beware. Watch him night
and day, or all at once, when he is be-
yond your jurisdiction, he will grow
pale. He will have far-away look in
his eve and the bright, rosy lad will
have become the flat-chested, joyless
youmorist.
Its hard to speak unkindly of our
parents, but mingled with my own re-
morse l shall always murmur to myself
and ask over and over why did not my
parents rescue me while they could?
Why did they allow my chubby little
feet to waddle down to the dangerous
ground on which the sad-eyed youmorist
must forever stand?
Partner, do not forget what have
said to-day. Whether your child be a
son or daughter, it matters not. Dis
courage the first sign of approaching
humor. 1t is easier to bust the back
bone of the first little, tender jokelet
that sticks its head through the virgin
soil than it is to allow the Shiny folds of
your sons youmorous lecture to be
wrapped about you and to bring your
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. "
Bill Nyc, an Detroit Free Press.