The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1890-06-17
THE ARIZONA KICKER.
No Office Yet, But Lots of HOnOrs.

No Office Yet, But Lots Of Honors.
We extract the following from the last
issue of the arizona Kicker:
Nor YET.-In reply to "Anxious In
uuirer," of Philadelphia, we would say
that we hold no political or appointive
office whatever. Right here it would be
very appropriate for US to add that we
want nothing of the sort, and that if the
President would tender us a Cabinet po-
s ton we should refuse it. We ought to
say so, but we don't propose to. We
to take most anything we could get our
hands on in the way of an Office, but the
opportunity hasn't dropped on u side
of the fence. While we are the editor,
publisher and proprietor of a great weekly
newspaper, and while we conduct a job
office, newspaper, grocery, saddlery, hard
ware, butcher shop, millinery store, feed
store and signal station all under one roof,
there is still an aching void. While our
contemporaries may play hYpocrite and
liar, we see no occasion to conceal our
real feelings. We want office of some
kind, and wen get it or burst a lung.
HIS HEAD IS LEvEL.-Last Wednesday
night, when returning home from a call
at the two-stOry abode of the Widow
Glassfeld's, and just as we were passing
the ruins of old Fort Todd, we were fred
upon three times in rapid succession. We
didn't stop to inquire the gentleman's
name, nor to ask the occasion of his
h1larity, but covered the mile of sandy
road leading into town in something like
FIVE minutes. Next morning we went
down to the ruins to see what we could
see, and it didn't cost US three minutes
time to discover who fred those shots.
There were the foot prints of a bow
legged mana man so bow-legged that
no one could mistake his identity. We
r, turned to town and set out to hunt up
Prof. Monckton, who has been playing
an ACCORDION in some of the 6rst-class
saloons, and who was "gone" on the
widow without our knowledge. We had
some music in our hip pocket for his pri-
vate ear, but a brief search disclosed the
fact that he had skipped the town. He
had seen us going out to look up his
tracks, and had at once bolted into the
sage brush.
TRY IT ONCE.-Two months ago the
postmaster of this town didn't care a cent
whether our mail reached US or not, and
every complaint we made was received
with i'll disguised contempt. We brought
matters to a climax by encouraging him
to attempt to h~orsewhip us. As soon as
he had struck the first blow we sailed in,
and his friends say he was the worst
licked man ever heard of in Arizona.
Since that date nothing is too good for
US. He sends a boy over with our mail
twice a day, and every one of our sub
scribers gets his Kicker so promptly that
the paper feels hot when it reaches him.
Mem.-f your postmaster won't travel
in the right bridle-path, haste him. 1t
beats appeals to Wanamaker all hollow.
Lo, Poor FLYl-Our readers will bear
witness that we refer to our contempt
rary only at long interals. and then in
the kindest manner. On the contrary, he
devotes much of his space each week to
personal abuse of us. We have no quar-
rel with this poor old fly. We pity him.
Whenever we see a man inte4ded by
nature to run a side show of wax figures
taking up journalism instead, our heart
goes out in sorrow. We realize how he |
must feel. 1t is like a jackass rabbit try
ing to pass himself off as a buffalo.
This poor old fly sent US word the
other day to look out for %ourself, as he
intended to shoot us On first sight. We
borrowed a squirt-gun of a boy on the
street and went over to the "Lame
Duck" Office and stood in the door of the
sanctum and squirted the poor old insect
out of the window. He didn't even stop
to argue the case, nor to throw a paper
weight. Then we counted his subscrip-
ton list, found he had 143 subscribers
where he claimed $50, and went away
feeling nothing but love and pity for him.