The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1890-04-03
THIRTEEN OBITUARIES.

Solomon Smythe, editor of the Daily
Blast, was a weak little gray-haired old
nan who had wonderful capacity for
work. He usually did two mems labor
or several months. and then became
dangerously i'll with some prevailing dis
,ase. If the smallpox happened to visit
he city, or the cholera to carry off num-
Der of residents, Solomon at once took to
lis bed, and his many friends anXiOusly
waited the fatal summons. After several
weeks, perhaps months, of suspense, the
lick man would reappear at the office,
,ale and emaciated, and once more re-
,ume his customary duties with Old-time
nergy.
So the years passed, and this little man
got sick and got well, got well and got
lick. His co-labOrers at the office eventu-
lily took a rather mean view of his con-
,titution. When it was whispered
throughout the editorial rooms that Mr.
,ymthe was seriously i'll, the sporting
.ditor would deliberately leave his half
lnished article ON an exciting cooking
main, that had occurred the previous night,
md walk out into the city department
Deliberately drawing a roll of greasy
reenbacks from his pocket, he would
,ravely call the attention of the city edi-
or to the fact that 1.-THE old fellows sick
lgain.' Then the cold blOoded man
would wager 50 to 81 that Mr.. Smythe
would be working at his desk within
'ertain number of weeks. A mercenary
reporter, who wrote poetry in his leisure
moments, and had obtained quite a stand
ing among undertakers as a mOrtuary
writer, invariably accepted the offer, and
he disgusted city editor, much against
lis inclination, would be made the stake
older In the cOunting-room Mr.. .Smythe's
illness was gravely discussed, and
me time the office boy was discharged
or irreverently offering to bet the cOllec-
or fifty cents to nickle that 9TH boss
wouldn't climb TIL golden stairs"
Mr.. Smythe' latest sickness was caused
Jy the influenza, and he was Just conva-
.escing when the community learned the
nature of the strange disease from which
le had been a resigned sufferer. When
| he little man was once more at his desk
| he mercenary reporter shook his head in
| / dubious way, told the city editor that
le guessed he would swear of betting,
md then went home. His friends saw
| lim ut the Office no more, for the follow
ing day he was siezed with Ia Grippe and
| lied. Whether his demise was caused
oy the disease or disgust at Mr. Smythe' S
recovery will forever remain a mystery.
dis friends, especially the undertakers,
who could properly appreciate his talent
even in death, missed him sadly.
Mr.. Smythe wrote a beautiful obituary
notice on the young man, i'll which his
many excellent qualities were detailed.
Words of comfort and promises of immOr.
al crowning spoke from this touching
obituary to the relatives of the deceased
yhe light but lately gone out had not left
eternal darkness, for the departed had
shed a radiance about his presence which
would grow like the everlasting rays OF
the everlasting sun. 1t was indeed a
beautiful tribute, that obituary of Mr.
Smythes and a classic in newspaper
work.
Several days after all that was mortal
Of the mercenary reporter had been con
signed to the earth, a package was left on
Mr.. Smythe's desk. On the cover were
the words: "To my dear friend, Solomon
Smythe." Mr.. Smythe recognized the
handwriting as that of the deceased re-
porter, and with trembling hands, he tore
open the package. Poor fellow, poor
fellow" he muttered, while the tear,
started behind his eyeglasses, "a little
gift, | suppose, to remember him by. y
He found note in the package which
read: Dear Mr.. Smythe, Inclosed you
will find thirteen obituaries on your dedU
which wrote when you were i'll at vari'
GUS times, but never had an opportunity
to use. You will notice that a deep