Evening journal., 1891-03-12
wohsE THAN SUDDEN DEATH |

WORSE THAN SUDDEN DEATH.
Many harsh, untruthful. ill.natured,
spiteful and unjust things have been ut
tered by those who fear tho EVENING
JOURNAL, because they are betraying the
confidence Of the people or by those who
are Jealous because Of It's phenomenal sue
| cess against the intense and not always
honest or fair rivalry Of older papers.
We have borne all OF this with serene
equanimitY born Of clear conscience
and with that sweet amability which re-
suits from an ability to maintain the 20
sition which we have gained by an IN
swerving pursuit Of right and justice and
a successful effort 20 spread sweetness
and light throughout the world
There is a satisfaction In doing right
under the promptings Of wise and pure
conscience which is the highest reward
Of an honest and honorable man. No
decoration Of worldly potentate, no
public adulatiOn, can replace the proud
contentment which mans own approx
ing conscience gives.
This feeling has enabled us TO bear
with fortitude the false gibes and foolish
criticisms Of those who hate or envy the
EVENING JOURNAL, but we admit that
the staff poetry Of the Morning News is
too much for us.
We sat down in the waste basket and
wept.
We did not feel precisely as the great
conqueror felt whose bubbling emotions
were too many, when there were "no
other worlds to conquer" but rather like
the cold and bitter cynic who said that
this nineteenth century was just begin.
ming to emerge from barbarism.
Carlyle said that before the staff poet
Of the Morning News mad made
halting footed parody on the pathetic
lyric known, sung and loved all over the
country as the Tale Of Woe
We have felt sorry for many efforts Of
the Morning News to do impracticable
things; we have lamented its abortive
efforts Of straddling inconsistency to
deal with she tariff as member OF free
trade club and Of the crank protectionism
party; we have sighed over It's efforts to
excuse the 'idiosyncrasies and pecca
dilloes" Of Higginsism; but when We saw
its staff poetry we sat down and wept
In the Episcopal service the pleader at
the bar Of Almighty Mercy asking to be
delivered from succession Of evils and
calamities OF life makes grand climax
Of sudden death. We would prefer
Sudden death" even to any more Of the
staff poetry Of the Morning News.
II the News keeps this up the whole
city viii unite with us in unanimous
and piercing shrek Of whoa
Thus:
A two-cent paper in this town grew
Listen to my tale o, woe
A two-cent paper Of sombre hue,
To read Il once will make you blue
whats newY" Nv hats new?n
Listen to my tale Of wool
Hard trials for them two.
Th.ir staff poet and the paper. TOO.
And the people that read 1t through,
For news? For newsl
Listen TO my tale Of woel
And now for their poets hullataloo.
III write a tale Of whoal
His brain. like the box, is empty. too,
II write he must he should be true.
But woe to them who read It through.
They n wish they whoa d as ! now do.
Poor youi So bluel
This Is a ia 10 OF whoal
CHORUS lSelected)
And they're after him., they're after h i'm
To capture him is every ones desire;
THERE after him, they're after him,
He's the individual they require"
THE Poet.
Henry Hope Morley. aged 80 years. son
kh., Lace Cor,r,al Mole ~, .