Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1889-06-14
EDITORIAL EXPLANATION.
VII, tn. swampvilie "wiggl-r'' fsii-d to
Appear Last Week.

why the swampvilie "Wiggirr ans" T."
Appear Last Week.
The Swampville Wiggler OF last
week contained. among other Interest,"
/ ing personals. the following;
Old Bob Crook has set report go
Ing in town that does us u grave ih-
/ Justice and we feel that 1t Is our duty
4 to arise and brand it as UNANIMOUSLY
false. He says that the reason we
failed to get the Wiggler out last week
was because we were too drunk to set
the type. We want to say right here
that old Bob lies When we get too
drunk to set type we are pretty far
gone. Now, the fact OF the business is
simply this:
Thursday afternoon when our forms
were made up and ready to lock. we
went up to Colonel Dykes saloon to
meet Major Bones, who promised to be
there at that time to pay MS Sky
cents on his subscription account.
which has been running over seven
years. When we arrived the Major
was in the middle of long yarn about
old times, and we waited for him TO
finish before we called his attention to
his promise. After that we joined the
boys in drink just to show the social
side of our nature.
Well, when we went back to our
Office we found that Judge Jones' old
red SOW had rooted the office door
down and was inside playing havoc
with things generally. She had al
ready upset the imposing stone and
pied the forms and was at the moment
we stepped in standing on her head
eating the last of keg of ink we had
just received as pay for Il column of
advertising space for one year.
We undertook to drive the old sOrrel
rip out. when she whirled on us and
showed strong desire TO eat us. We
! felt that it would be we'll to make our
escape. so we skun up the wall just AS
she made rip at lis and got our pants
J 1t was narrow escape from IA horrible
death.
| For four hours we sat up there
astride of Il sharp joist and ''sooied'
that old varmint, but she paid no more
attention to us than she would to the
blowing of the wind. She drank the
last bit of our ink, and tried to eat the
keg, and then she ate the tympan off
the press. AT last, just at dark, she
took our subscription book in her
mouth and trotted away. and we came
| down and stole home down the back
alley, where we had to remain until
our wife succeeding In persuading
| Colonel Barnes to let us have a pair of
pants on time. for which we hope to
induce the genial Colonel to take
advertising in pay.
This Is the true reason why the
Wiggler failed to appear last week,
and old Bob Crook knows it. for we
saw him and five or six others stand
ing on the opposite street corner
laughing at us as we sat astride of the
joist.
We want to say right here that
| we've suffered enough at the hands OF
that Old SOW, and If something is not
done with her we shall take the law
in our own hands. This is not the
first time she has ra;6ed our office.
1t was only last month, when we were
deeply absorbed in a leading editorial
on the marvellous growth and progress
OF our city, that she came in unnotice !,
and without the least warning rooted
over the bench on which we were at
the time writing. That old SOW is the
bane of our life, and for fifteen yearG
has kept MS out of the church. She
has demolished our office, taken the
bread out Of our mouth, made our life
miserable, stood between US and
Heaven. and now we say she must
cease brakes Magazine.