The daily morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1883-1899, 1889-06-13
EDITORIAL EXPLANATION,
Why the Swampville "Wiggler" Failed
to Appear Last Week.

The Swampville Wiggler of last
week contained, among other interest.
ing personals, the following.
Old Bob Crook has set q report 60
ing in town that does us a grave in.
justice and we feel that it is orr duty
to rise and brand it as UNANIMOUSLY
false. he says that the reason we
failed to get the Wiggler ont 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 us sixty cents on his subscrip-
tion account, which has been run
ming over seven years. When We ar
rived 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 a
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 mo-
ment we stepped in standing on her
head eating the last of a keg of ink
we had just received as pay for q
column of advertising space for one
year.
We undertook to drive the old sor-
rel rip out, when she whirled on us
and showed strong desire to eat us.
We felt that it would be well to make
our escape, so we skun up the wall
just as she made rip at us and got
our pants. It was a narrow escape from
q horrible death.
For four hours we sat up there
astride OF 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 subscrip.
tion 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 succeed
ing in persuading Colonel Barnes to
let us have pair Of pants on time. fol
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 thai
we've suffered enough at the hands ol
that old SOW, and il something is MOI
done with her we shall take the Law
in our own hands. This is not the
first time she has raided our office
It was only last month, wheE We wert
deeply absorbed in aleading editoria
on the marvellous growth and prugres:
of our city, that she came in unnoticed
and without the least warning rooted
over the bench on which we were al
the time writing. That old SOW is the
bane of our life, and for fifteen year,
has kept us out of the church. She
has demolished our office, taken the
bread out Of our mouth, made our life
miserable, stood between us anG
Heaven, and now we say she mus
cease.