New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1888-11-11
4 WHOLESALE POET.
TIE ASTONISHING EXPERIENCE OF JAMES
WHlTCOMB RILEY

While the Nyc-Rlley combination was on the road
last winter little incident happened at kalamazoo,
Michigan, which has never been given to the public
Their entertainment over for the night, and
.tcc and pleased audience had dis persed. Nye had
been taken In hand by the town lecture committee and
tuwed of NJ 10 Uncle Asa Butcrneld's house TO hear
Uncle Asa tel his famous story about his red COW
md Dunk Browns hrcd man, the occurrence having
actually taken place in 1889. Uncle Asa local
humors OF great rcnown; he hal been unable to at
tend tho lecture account of rheumatism, but had
promised TO ST up til the committee brought Nye
around. The Red Cow story was his masterpiece,
and he was very anxious that Nyc should hear it, as
thought that very likely he might want to
introduce 10 into his lecture. Riley had escaped by
fcgning sickness the visit was proposed
before Nye could employ the same excuse, and
sitting in the hotel Office at about IL o'clock con-
gatrlating himself and chuckling quietly. He was
thinking OF various acctious remarks which he would
make Nyc. should he survive the operation he was
undergoing about Uncle Asa the red COW. the hired
man, and forth, when man hurriedly entered
who attracted HIS attention at The man was tall
and angular with long gray hair, hollow and he
he'd trick of thrustng his head forward and
pointing with long bony finger. He glanced around
at the group Of hotel guests sitting about and walked
directly TO Riley.
"You are Riley, James Whtcomb Riley he said as
he pointed a long finger at him.
The poet bushcd slightly and modestly admitted
the fact. "Yes, yes went on the man, Il know
you though / never saw you before. We never met,
but we've had a good deal of business with each
other"
"Wcll perhaps replied Riley, but don't exactly
understand what you refer to-
Uah! I'll tell you. My name is Thomas II.
stockwclls and he looked at Riley trumphanty.
Orwell, l can't Just place you I'm afraid
answered Riley.
"You can'tl Why, I'm tho man that has written
all your poetry for your
The poet looked at the holow-eyed visitor speech
less.
90 Yes, sir gentcmen,7 went on the intruder, swing
Ing his long, bony hand as to include the little
group, " | am the man who has written all OF James
Whitcomb Rey's poems for him. When he has
wanted a new he has always written TO mo and
have sent IL to him and got my pay for It and that
has been all there is about IT, You know 1t Mr.
Riley as well | do. But I'm sick and tired Of IT,
Hereafter sir, the world shall know Thomas II.
stockwell as he IS the fame Of James Whitcomb
Riley will hereafter rest the brow OF Thomas
Hostetter stockwcll Tho time is como for me to
declare myself and claim my own ~
The unknown poet who had blushcd unseon all
these years drew himself up proudly and laid his
hand his heart Riley had been gradually getting
over his establishment and now found his voice.
"Pcrhaps, Mr.. stockwon7 he said, "you may have
some Of your poems with you such as you have been
furnishing me and favor US with short reading
Certainly" replied the long haired individual
promptly as he pulled handful OF crllmpled manu-
script out of his breast pocket; certainly
nothing would give me greater pleasure.
have here among Others one entitled
The Old Barnyard' with which | intended filling
your next order | will read verse:
when you go out in our barnyard a-hnd % wandrIn'
round
Amongst the hens and sheep, and the hogs arootin
la the ground
And GIT ngg rim on tho colts and how much they'll
bly, bring
when they're broke drive In harness later In tho
spring,
Aigo off irum the sheep with horns-'less you to
some stars
Cause he's prederdiccd and bie to bun you through
the bars
But what you want to rally void Amt airy pig or sheep
or hosss