The Press., 1888-11-01
ROB RURDETrE,s nrMoR.

| Robert J. Burdette-Bnb has inst been licensed to preach by the Low CT Merion Baptist church of the Phlladeiphia Brptis, association, and will soon leave the lecture field. He says he .prtrch. d his first ser mon one summer Sunday ~lilr he wus spending his vacation lu s,.me mouIl. ain retreat. The little church. there was vi h. out pastor, and he took the pulpit at th.. earnest solicitation If its members.
 The story of Burdt4tt's touching d,vo tion to his wife, nowssiead, IS familiar to every one, but the following r. cital of his beginnings as humorist may toe new to many. He was at that time local editor of The Peoria Transctipt. He hd to fill two columns a day. It was hard work. Dog fights were scarcsfand humnn beings were disgustingly sober and pemces ble. His page was dull. fS.
 At home was his wife, ill of the dis, a. of which she finally died, ard to cheer her up he stayed at home an hour or two at noon and wrote imaginary local events of an exciting nature and read them to her. They were grossly improbable and funny. They ali not have 8 debilitAting effect nn her, but c ually made her lnugh, and one day she said: Robbie, this ridiculous stuff of yours is bad: enough to print. Having seen that survive it, why don't you try it on your readers ?" He utiousIy did So, -denling it out in small doses. It was copied everywhere. This had been going on for a fortnight, may be, when one day Mr. Emory, editor of the paper, sent to Robert, requesting hIm to come to his private room. "Aha said Robert, rubbing his hands and glow. ing from head to foot, 1'I've fetched him He's going to raise my salary P loIk T1 tue audacious youth was seated, 1.-two lunatics escal ed from the asylum last week, believe.
 was captured"
 Que was captured" said the editor, thoughtfully, "one-oniy one. What be- came of the other, Mr. Burdette?" "He hasn't been found yet" answered the joe 'se youth; ''they're scoring the woods for him."
 ''Is it not possible that he may be SC. creted about tie building somewhere? h your room, for instance?
 "Why. no, MT. Emory What put such an idea into your head?"
 ''Have you among your friends anybody who is driveling idiot, MT. Burdette ?"
 "No, sir; oh, no, sir, think not!" pro tested inc youth, moving uneasily in his chair.
 "Who might get into the office and in sert articles without our knowledge-ir your long absence at dinner, for instance ?
 "Oh, n", Mir. Emory, no; why do you ask ?"
 II met an intoxicated man the other night going down the stairs. Who was it?"
 'l don't know, indeed" said Burdette. eve had just bounced him"
 "Did he write anything for the paper clandestinely and surreptltiously while h, was here ?" persisted the tditor.
 "Whv, no, of cour~e; see everything that goes in this pnge."
 "Well, then, MT. Bnrdette, who is il that makes those sickly attempts to be funny that I see ill your columns every day ?''
 Burdette bIushed, rubbed some dirt of his left pantaloons leg with his right boot and said: "Reully, Mr. Emory, lyon see T hardly-well-the fact is-there's 's nothing avaricious about me, Mir. Emory but shall h we to claim those myself.
 ''Ohw exclaimed the editor, ftigning surprise. You? Well, don't do so any more. They make me melancholy. They are drcadfully lngubrious. They seemed to have emanated from a VT, ckedsbraiu. You can go to your room. Mir. Burdette I wouldn't have thought it of you. Don't do so any more. If there's anything fun ny to be written, I'll write it myself"
 Burdette went home all broke up He resigned next day and crossed the Missis- sippi. "I left" says the humorist, "be- cause, sincerely, I couldn't look him in the face after that. b, d been caught in the act and felt like guilty thing !"-Mit gUGuEee Journal