The Newberry herald and news. (Newberry, S.C.) 1884-1903, 1885-07-23
THENEW RFRRY HERALD AND NEWS.
A Bugle Blast from ssClara Louise"

"A 6USSle oldSC rOh 'Sl6fd AouiSc.
In another column we publish an ar
ticle from ''Clara Louise" which could
be styled "a cloud burst,' "a cyclonic
squall," OF by some other windy, stormy
name, but 'sbugle blastn sounds more
euphonious. She goes for us, but we
will not down. In all controversy our
motto is, clay on McDuff'' Our feath-
ers are rufded, we feel like drowned
rat, but we don't intend for our song to
be hushed in the woods. We are sell
fish, spoiled, want the best OF every
thing, and.want the best OF tins arsu-;
ment. Going to have it, 1T there's any
7irtue in printers ink, even il there IS
a woman at the bottom Of it.n So much
| the better. To begin at the beginning.
! a little bird hoped on limb Of tree
at Liberty Hall and chirped. 1t chirped
so sweetly that ''Clara Louise was at
tracted and charmed. About the same
time an old owl perched on a hickory
| limb 1T Helena and hooted. 1t hooted
so horribly that the village chronicler
| was distracted and disgusted. Sinnulta-,
neouslY there appeared notices OF the
| two concerts, the one as having made
the valleys and the hills resonant with
matutinal melody. the other as having
narred the twilight shades by dis
cordant strains the one blending with
the Emusic of the spheres," the other
mixing with the ''war Of the clements;
the one crowning all harmonious nature
with gladness, the other disfguring even
the ravens fiji ght from ''the plutonian
shore''; she soothed and lulled by the
nightingale's trill, the murmuring OF the
| plaintive whippoorwill, or the cooling OF
the dove, is waited to the realms of bab-
bling brooks and gentle zephyrs; he,
iretted and stung by the screech OF the
midnight howl, is tossed to the brink OF
''Dante's Inferno" The two extremes
met. There was clash. Helena chap
pened'' to mention ''his owl'' IN connec-
tion with sher bird" and war is waging.
From Liberty Hill to Little Helena the
feathers are flying. Yes, mann, there
are feathers 'sa-fying in the air.
'sClara Louise'' and "Helena Happen
ings'' are engaged-in conflict. The
| little speck which appeared on the Lib
erty Hall horizon as no bigger than a
BIRDS foot (from bird's-eye-view) has
assumed immense proportions. Flutter
of wings is heard on every passing
breeze. Helena is enlisted for the end,
and can't be "downed," not by de-
scendant of Eve, and Ruth, and Rachel,
and Esther, and all our four-motherS.
| Umphthrow.) Does that give you ease,
4 dear "Clara Louise? ?'' Our fair adver-
sary in her reply this week says: ''Tra-
dition does not inform us which of the
stwain' fashioned the dresses of fig
leaves" Why, "Clara, Eve did it, Of
course. II they had been monkeys, in
stead of white people, the womanly, al
! though monkeyish, instincts Of Eve
would have prompted her to do it. Wo-
man is very particular-when there's a
man around, and Eve was no exception
to the general rule, even if there was no
millinery establishment in the town
. where she lived at that time; she fol-
! lowed the prevailing fashion OF that day.
Tell you why. Eve was born in the
spring (the spring of the year, when the
| fig leaves were green, and Adam too !;
when the leaves began to turn, and she
thought the roses would not come again,
it was that Eve made her first dress.
Adam couldn't even thread the needle.
1t was at that time too that the first edi-
ton Of over the garden wall was struck
of, and Eve first sang 'sOh my heart
fondly cleaves to the dry and withered
\ leaves,n and Adam said, s'Nothing but
! ieaves.:' About Eve speaking loving
words to Adam as they left the garden
we know nothing, but it is accredited to
her that she said, she didn't care, Adam.
if she did. ''Clara Louise" also says we
preached volcanic Sermon" and as
there are stones in sermons Especially
volcanic ones) it were we'll to keep ou
of reach for fear some of the stones may
hit. Glad you mentioned that, "Clara,
as it gives us a chailSSfto say that We
want to kill two birds the owl and The
feathered songster) with one stone this
time. We know there are sermons ir
stones Especially volcanic) but as these
are the rolling kind we fear they will
gather no moss. Why, 'Clara," you
just play into our hand. You must
really excuse us, we can't help taking
advantage Of such good opening to
put in clincher. All is fair in love and
war. Like hawk we swoop down on
birds of tender growth, and if you don't
wish to fall into our clutches you had
better devote all your time to teaching
the young idea how to shoot'' and let
outside ''Happenings'' alone. Otherwise
| you might get your wings clipped, for
there are too many female school teach
member of that fraternity. But if you
want to argue, come at US again, on an
other subject. And now, in conclusion,
"Clara,,,' as you have raised the white
flag of peace, we are willing to shake
hands across the bloody chasm on this
issue. If you think we are hard, you
must recollect that you said woman was
Abel to paddle her own canoe; we SIM
| ply desired to show that it was an EEel
moment when you attempted to paddle
against a newspaper. 7
P. S.-We feel safe at a. distance.
/ Don't think we can venture to the pic
mic Saturday. Too close. For
Dear "Clara Louise, you love to tease,
| And worry bashful fellow;
But in the scratch you may strike your match
If his light does seem to be mellow.
You struck our owl and it raised howl
From Lib erty Hall to Hell -.
Ena, the secluded, but never deluded.
Spot where the reporter "do dwell" -,
Between "ne and you" the feathers fast flew
And were filtered away by the breeze;
I Twas war or words on Inc poor uLIle Dlrus,
And the aggressor was "Clara Louise" -
The fiutter of the bird no more is heard !
And his voice is hushed in the yew;
The chipmunk and bat, the blue-bird and eat
Take the roost once held by "tu-whoo."
| Who killed the owl and silenced his growl,
And troubled the song-bird's ease:
"With my pen and ink, in the twink OF q wink
| did it, said "Clara Louise" ...t'
It is sad to think that no more will blink
The big-eyed owl in the tree,
And that thou art the one by whose hand II
was done,
Thy hand, oh! "Clara Louice."
The owl sat on hickory limb,
Umphthrow!
A whack from "Clara" silenced him, s
Umphthrow. Umphihrow!
: Stnled is thy wing, no more wilt thou sing,
AS twilight shades gather around,
But with the dead leaves under the caves
Thy feathers now cover the ground.
The hole in the tree that once sheltered thee
Shall hide thee no more in the future,
For thou art now lying, nevermore to be hy
ing,
With thy tiuttering feathers, and hoot too.