The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1889-02-09
THE WESTERN EDITOR.
slightly Mixed Character OF His Labors in
tho Iitprpry Itne.

"As we pen these lines" wrote the
able editor, 'our eyes are rivers of
tears, and our soul is fraught with
poignant woe. A gentle, luminous
star that shone more lustrous than all
the stars about her, has died out, and
is dead forever. Glady Swivelhurst-
Gladys, the beautiful, the young, is
dead.
AT this juncture the foreman entered
the able EDITORS room and informed
him that n short item was necessary to
fill the last column on the second page,
aud the editor wrote this
1--WE must have money to carry on
our business. Several hundreds of
dollars are due us, and If they are not
forthcoming Immediately the accounts
will be placed in the hands of u col
iector."
Having dashed this off he continued
the article about the dead one:
''Her life and death reminds us Of
the short but beautiful existence of the
flower; born under smiling skies nour-
ished by gentle breezes, only to be cut
off by the pitiless wind from the north.
1t seems like an uhhallowed dream
that Gladys is deed, but she is doubly
dead, In that she died so young"
Here he was called to the telephone,
and was instructed by the manager of
the Brokeslate Coal Company to write
and print u short reading notice for
that corporation, and he at once COM
piled this:
Every mans house should be his
palace, and u palace would be very un-
comfortable without warmth. The
prudent man will order his coal from
the Brokeslate Coal Company. This
coal is free from dirt, dust and clinkers.
1t burns freely and gives great heat.
Purchasers will always receive full
weight, and having used this coal once
will buy no ether"
Then the death notice was continued:
at was the morning of the wedding
day; the golden glow of the sunlight,
streaming into her chamber, seemed a
promise of life of happiness to come;
but ere the shadows of the evening had
fallen upon the brown earth the deeper
and colder shadows of death dimmed
those tender eyes, left the damp upon
her beautiful brow, and all was over"
Here messenger boy handed him a
note. He read it, and taking another
sheet of paper soon sent the following
| TO the printers:
'James Cobbleton tells good joke
on Andy Shellhorn. For several nights
| the latter had been annoyed by cattle
which broke into his yard, causing
general havoc. At last, enraged be-
yond endurance, he bought gun, and,
| hearing the usual raclle. in the garden
about midnight, he opened the window
of his room and blazed away. In the
morning he found that he had shot one
of his own cows, which had broken
from the stable and wandered into the
yard. The laugh is on Andy"
He again resumed the obituary:
"We have watched this young girl
grow from childhood to young and glor-
ious womanhood. We have watched
her when she went by like sunbeam
and marveled at her beauty, and to-day
we see the bridal robes substituted by
the clinging cerements of death and our
tears seem drops of blood ebbing from
crushed and anguished heart
When this was written reporter
entered the room and handed him
marked copy of local contemporary,
after reading which he rapidly penned
the following:
"The scurrilous dish-rag which is
published in an obscure alley of this
town by a lop-eared leper who spends
his evenings trying to wash the tar off
his body with benzine, says that we re-
ceived fifty dollars for supporting Gen
eral Strutover for the office of consta-
BILE. 1t is scarcely worth while for us
to brand this as an infamous lie, which
would make Ananias green with envy,
were it not for the fact that there are
people who do not know the true char
acter OF the moral and physical wreck
making the charge. We DO brand it as
IL lie, and therefore as lie we will
cram it down the craven throat of the
degenerate coward who uttered it.''
The obituary was taken up again:
'.In this, the dark hour of or sor.
row, we have the sweet consolation of
knowing that the gentle uladys, too
lovely for the harsh blasts and tenn
pests of earth, is now where the tear
never falls, where the sigh is never
heard, where the footballs of death
never echo on the jasper streets. We
can only hope that in the uncertain
future VIXEN we, too, have crossed the
waters of the river of death. we can
meet her there - there where the
chorus swells forever and snowy pin
ions fan the perfumed air."
Another telephone message, and the
editor, taking a fresh slip of paper,
scribbled this:
General Tom Brighton is going
about town to-day with IL broad smile
on account of a handsome boy baby
who has taken up his abode at the
house. Tom has the congratulations
of ye editor.
Then he wrote the final sentences of
the death notice:
This is indeed a sweet thought, yet
we are stricken with sorrow that in all
the weary years to come we can hear
her voice no more. But what avail |
words? We can not speak the thoughts
that surge through our brain; the