St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1891-05-21

Now this IS what actually took
place:
In the lumber-camp of Shingletown.
Wisconsin, on a certain date, an
Irishman, by the name of McSorley.
came to his cabin about two O'Clock
in the afternoon, and found his wife
making herself new dress. Before
leaving in the morning he had asked
her to mend his trousers, but she
had neglected to do it. A hot dis
cussion took place, in which the
wife's mother, who happened to be
present, took a hand. At length
McSorley hit Mrs. McSorley on the
side of the head and nearly knocked
her over Both the women set up a
cry for help and several lumbermen
ran up. They were met at the door
by McSorley and large gun. After
a short parley, during which Mrs.
McSorley experienced change of
heart, and decided to scratch their
eyes out if they ventured to come in,
the lumbermen were made to under
stand that it was purely a family
affair. Mutual apologies and COM
pliments followed, and McSorley
asked them all over to O'Connor's.
Now this is how the story got to
the ST. Paul Enumeration:
Toward the evening of the day IN
which the above narrated event took
place, Edison Morse, the telegraph
operator at Shingletown, heard a
rumor that McSorley had killed his
wife and mother-in-law and was now
besieged in his cabin by a crowd of
lumbermen. Being too busy himself
to attend to the matter, Morse sent
his brother, a young man who was
beginning to show evidence OF the
possession of newspaper instinct
in other words, was something of a
liar himself-out to get at the facts.
eff you get back in an hour" Edi-
son said, sit will give me time to
send it to the Enumeration. They
pay halfa-cent a word; get as much
as you can, Billy, but hurry up"
The genius of newspapering con-
sists in doing great things at mo-
however, be added: that if you can
not do great things, do your best to
make the public believe that you
have done them. Billy hurried up"
in fact he went only half way to the
McSorley ca bin, but he de inquiries
of every one he met. Now the gift Of
a lively imagination is by no means
confined to those who earn living
by the exercise thereof There are
mute inglorious Stevensons as we'll
as Millions. Thus it happened that
Billy's notebook soon contained
much interesting information.
He learned:
That Mr.. McSorley was a bad
man.
That he had frequently expressed
That on several different occasions
he had beaten his wife "to a jelly"
That they had quarreled about the
mending of a pair of trousers.
That they had five children, and in
the course of the scrimmage one of
them had been knocked senseless.
That he had struck Mrs. McSorley
with heavy club, inhicting injuries
that would probably prove fatal.
That he had fired at the men who
came to arrest him.
That he ought to be lynched.
"What have you found out ?''
asked Edison, when Billy put in an
appearance at the telegraph Office.
Billy took out his book and ex-
planned.
"Well, write it up" said the oper-
ator-correspondent; make it about
four hundred words. And says
that woman going to die, sure?"
You bet," said Billy; "all beaten
up with big oak-club. Head
smashed"
''Well. then, 1 guess you had better
kill her in your article l don't think
they will stand four hundred words
unless she is dead"
Now this is what took place at the
office of the St. Paul Enumeration.
The time is nine o'clock. The tele-
graph-editor is sorting over his first
batch of 'fimsy." He tears the en-
velopes off the wads and smoothes out
the crumpled paper. To him there
enters a man with straw-colored
whiskers and an emphatic breath.
The following converse ton takes
place:
He of the Whiskers-Have you got
anything that l can snake out and
send to Chicago, Jim?
Jim-I've only struck one special
so far. It's row in a lunber-camp.
Whiskers-Sure, we get too many
of them. | don't believe the Grape
Vine would touch it.
Jim-You might look it over. (He
hands out several sheets of finely
written tissue-paper.)
Whiskers = 'Singletown, Wiscon-
SIM l never heard of such place.
These Internal plug-operat tors! Oh,
he means Singleton-of course
What's this? IAN Irishman named"
-um-say. Jim, what do you make
this name out to be?
Jim-Looks like McGinty.
Whiskers-It looks a good deal
more like McTavish, and that's not
an Irish name at all, but a Scotch.