Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1888-10-25
AN EDITORS woo,Mo.

AN EDITORS woolNo.
The Condltion ON which c.lisea Bellamy
Accepted Ar. CluSsten.
'Calista Bellamy, my happiness is
in your hands,"
Mortimer Clugston, who uttered
these words, was the editor and pro-
prietor of the Doodleville Telper. He
had pleaded his suit with an earnest
ness that had broken a collar-button
and nearly loosened front tooth. and
as he stood awaiting the young lady's
answer he could distinctly feel the in
terest growing on the note of $16.SS
due in one month. which he owed to
the accommodating gentlemen in Chi
cago who kindly furnished his paper
for him.
Gathering courage from her silence
he broke out again:
''Calista, your manner leads me to
hope. May I promise myself that you
will fill the chasm in my life that-er
-yawns for you? A bright future may
be yours. Calista. With you by my
side as an assistant in an editorial
career, as a prOof-reader, as q helper
in folding papers Thursday afternoon.
making up mails. doing up single
wrappers and looking after the &C
counts OF delinquent subscribers, /
could make the Yelper even a greater
power in the land than it is now"
''Mr. Clugston." said Miss Bellamy.
''may ask you what the circulation of
the Telper is?''
about thousand, Miss Calista."
Il am not the press agent of circus
and menagerie, Mr.. Clugston, replied
the young lady. Il am not getting up
a newspaper directory, nor trying to
make contract with you for advertis-
ing a-patent clothes-wringer. You can
afford to tell me the truth"
''Of course l only mean 1000 in
round numbers. My actual circulation
is $50, but it is growing every day,
Miss Calista. l work off three quires
more than the Jasper Herald of Anseri-
can Liberty does, and he claims 1000.
In less than year you and l could
make even the circulation of Doc
Reeves PinhoOk Jgger look mighty
sick"
Excuse the question. Mr.. Clugston.
but have you paying advertising
patronage?'
advertising? There hasn't been
an issue of the Helper Tor three years
that has had less than $3.50 worth of
pay locals for emulsions of cod liver oil
inserted next to pure reading matter
on the editorial page. have a trunk
full of due-bills from sewing-machine
companies, organ manufacturers and
prOprietOrs of patent wind-mills to APP
ply on the purchase of those articles
when l want to buy them; and out in
my coalshed l have patent medicine
enough, paid for in advertising. to kill
regiment of Bengal tigers. l always
travel on a railroad pass, good any
where between Saluda and Harker's
Corners. never get less than seven
complimentary tickets whenever cir
Gus and menagerie comes to Doodle
vile, and every wedding in the neigh.
borhOod brings me in a box of assorted
scraps of cake. l tell you, Miss
Calista, the Yelper is humping itself
along in more ways than advertising.
Some of my editorials have been copied
into the Brimfeld TOmGhaUk and
Eureka Ihunder6oH, and pronounced
the ablest articles on chinchbugs in
corn and the moral influence of woman
in politics that have been printed in
any of the papers for miles around;
and I have been prominently men,
toned as candidate for the position
of delegate to the district lodge OF
Good Templars."
Il am not insensible to the distinc-
ton you offer to confer on me, Mr..
Clugston." said the young lady, softly.
Il will be your wife on condition that
it shall not be part of my duty to
wash the Office towel"
wash the Office towel, Calista!"
exclaimed Mortimer Clugstone. as his
hair rrose straight up on end in a
paroxysm of amazement, 1--WE never
wash it. so help me Benjamin Frank
lin! When it isn't in use for breaking
kindlings or propping up window it
always stands behind the door. o,
Calista! Are you mine at last?"
The neighbOrhoOd cats walled deliri-
ously their touching notes OF despair
ing love and defiant hate, the pensive
frogs in the adjacent pond discoursed
monotonously in Volapuk, the belated
Bellamy cow bawled loudly her pur-
pose to stand at the gate of the barn
yard and blaspheme until somebody |
came to let her in, and upon the ear
of the mild-lOoking old lady who was
at the keyhole of the Bellamy |
parlor there smote q sound like unto |
that which is made by a retired
squash colliding forcibly with the side
of brick Chicago Tribune.
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