The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1888-11-22
Bob Burdstte's Humor.

Robert J. Burdette Bob has Just been
licensed to preach by the Philadelphia
Baptist Association, and will soon leave
the lecture field, He says he preached
his first sermon one summer,Sunday while
he was spending his vacation in some
mountain retreat. The little church there
was without pastor and he took the pull
pit at the earnest solicitation OF its mem-
bers.
The story Of Burdettes touching devo.
tion to his wife, now dead, is familiar TO
every one, but the following recital Of
bis beginnings as bumorist may be new
to many. He was at that time local cdi-
tor OF the Peoria Transcript he had to
fll two columns day. II was hard work.
Dog fights were scarce and human beings
we're disgustingly sober and peaceable.
His page was dull,
AT home was his wife, i'll OF the disease
Of which she finally died, and th cheer
her up be stayed at home an hour or two
at noon and wrote imaginary local events,
OF an exciting nature and read them TO
her. They we're grossly improbable aud
funny. They did not have debilitsting
effect on her, but actually made her laugh
and one day she said. "Robbie this ridic-
ulous stuff yours is bad enough 10 print.
Having seen that / survive il why don't
you try it on your readers?'
He cautiously did so, dealing IL out in
small doses. 1t was copied everywhere.
This bad been going on fortnight maybe.
when one day Mr.. Emory, editor Of the
paper, sent to Robert requesting him to
come TO bis private room. "Abal' said
Robert, rubbing his hands and glowing
from head 10 foot, 1ye fetched him
He's going to raise my salaryl"
"Mr. Bnrdette," said Mr.. Emory. when
The audacious youth was seated, two
unatics escaped from the asylum last
week, believer"
Yes, sir; yes two but one Of them WAS
captured.
One was captured, said the editor.
one-only one. What be-
,ame OF the other, Mr.. Budette?
He hasn't been found yet, answered the
ocose youth; they're securing the woods
or him.
Is II not possible that be may be secret-
ID about the building somewhere2 In your
Dom, Tor instance2
Why, no, Mr. Emory What put such
10 idea into your bead9
Have you among your friends anybody
gho is driveling idiot. Mr.. Burdette?
No, sir; oh, no, sir, think notl protest.
d the youth, moving uneasily 10 bis chair.
Who might get into the office and insert
rticles without your knowledge, 10 your
bsence st dinner. for instance?
Oh, no. Mr.. Emory, no; why do you
SKI
! met an intoxicated man the other
igLt going down the stairs. Who WAS IN
don't know, indeed, said Burdette.
ve had just bounced him.
Did he write anything for tho paper
landestinely or snrrep,itiously while he
as here2 persisted the editor.
Why, no. Of course; see every thing
bat goes 10 this page.
Well, then, Mr. Burdetie, who 10 II that
Iakes those sickly attempts TO be funny
lat see 10 your columns every day.
Burdette blusbed. rubbed some dirt of
IL left psntaloons leg with his right boot
ID said: Really. Mr. Emory, I--you
70 II hardly 500 we'll fact is-there's
otbing sysricious about me, Mr. Emory,
ut shall have 10 claim those myself
Oh ?erclsimed the editor, feigning SUR
rise. Your Well don't do 20 any more.
hey make me melancholy. They are
lngubrious They seem 10
I'VE emsnsted from wrecked brain. You
N go 10 your room, Mr. Bardet,e.
opldnt have thought Il Of you. Don't
so apy moro II there's anything funny
be written III write II myself.
Burdetie vent home sll broke up, Hs
signed next day.