The record-union., 1892-04-30
E0FFMAN'S HUMOR.
Our Old Correspondent Comes to the
Front Again.
The Story He Picked Up On a Very
HaZy Morning in
Marysville.
Especial Correspondence REcoRD-US1oS.l

StCttS OfHce-a haDlC Whlcn mas grown
upon me lately-and began reading the
exchanges-another habit of mine-and
the first thing l saw, almost, was an item
under the head of Information Wanted"
Whenever L see, in the papers, that
some poor, benighted, modest person
wants information, l straightway read on
to the end with the intention of finding
out just what sort of information the
person wants and then giving it to him,
or her, as the case may be. am not
stingy, vain and Indifferent man. know
that the great heaps Of information that |
have stored up in my think tank have
been secured by years of patient research,
when the rest of the world had its eyes
shut, or was looking the other way; but
because this piece of knowledge repre-
sents an eye as black as the nights Plu-
tonian shore, and that one tooth or two,
and the others represent handtulS OF hair
and language that would stun pile
driver, l am not going to keep what l
know locked up and of no use to any
body but the owner. L like to be Of some
use in this world of useless things, and
my mental ragbag is always open TO
those who need few bright, nicely-col-
ored fag ends of wit and philosophy for
the crazy patchwork of their lives.
However, at the present writing ! do
not know whether to forward the desired
information or not. The item under the
head mentioned was to the effect that any
body knowing the whereabouts of my
self would confer great favor by send
ing my address to the editor of the afore-
said exchange, who, by the way, is a
stranger to me.
a favor! Well, maybe so, maybe so.
There are favors and tavors. Sometimes
a little thing like this is q great favor to
the party of the first part, and the party
Of the second part is not in it. Some
times it is the other way. am very sus-
plcious when | read press notices asking
for information concerning my where
abouts. AS soon as | read them l
begin to wonder whether that nameSake
having himself, and when an eCtltOT
wants to know, | am doubly suspicious.
l am not popular with editors, except
at distance. Editors seem to get too ia
miliar with me, as it were, and familiar
lty breeds cOntempt-alSO ScabS. Some
times the scabs are bred on my nose,
sometimes on the editors. It depends
somewhat upon the way the editor shows
his contempt. If ne does it with a club,
or an anvil III each hand, or gunny sack
half filled with plate matter and dead
ads. [ wear the scab. But ii he shows his
contempt by crawling under the table and
Shying the paste brush at me, he wears
the scab. The ultimate result often de-
pends upon which one of us gets under
the table first.
Once, when an editor was showing his
contempt for me we both got under the
same table at the same time. 1t is inn
possible at this late date to accu-
rately describe my feelings on that occa-
SIon-Or hiS'n.
IB,,& -, T. IL, IL
argument. What L should like to know
is this: Why does the editor Of the ex-
change referred to desire my address
Does he think | am the lost Charlie Ross?
Does he wish to offer me a controlling in
terest in his paper? Does he owe me
debt which he is very anxious to get off
his hands? Does he want me to sign a
contract to supply his paper with three
columns weekly of bright clean, and
original humorous matter at more than
usual rates, with the privilege of sending
one copy to each of my forty-three cous-
ms in Texas? Does he possess burn
ing desire to do something for me which
will result to my great personal advan-
tage? Does he wish to make me his heir?
Ii so, / am HERE.
But let US not be too haSty. If he does
not wish me to accept an interest in his
paper, nor owes me a cent, nor has con-
tract for me to sign, nor has an infiam-
matory desire to do anything for me, nor
wishes to make me his heir, but holds
note against me, or some other mans
note indorsed by me, or wishes to show
his contempt for me by breeding q scab
on my nose, or has relatives who want to
take something out OF my hide, or is in
cahootS with a constable who has war
rant for my arrest, or has whole raft of
marriageable daughters am not here
| have been dead Tor, O.theSe many wears
Tho Sinr1.o Navajo toiy
pose, are looking very grand just now
L met man from Woodland q few DAYS
ago and mentioned it to him, and he said
it was even so. He said he frequently
took q SpyglaSS and looked away off at
the hills, and it was all so grand that he
could smell the tarweed and hear the
chipmunks singing as they flew around,
building their nests in the mosquito
bushes. 1t has been more than a year
since was in the SierraS, and I should
like to smell the tarweed again. A poet
would say he would like to smell the
dandelions or the thistles or the cow
slips, but I am not a poet, and care
very little for the lions and COWS
of my native heath. Tarweed is my
favorite posy. When I left the mount
aims / had little sprig of it, and when I
went down into Arizona, Mexico and
Lower California / carried it along. Ever
and anon, when / felt blue and the Chile
pepper SGeNS Oh IDe Nl6AlCaDS were grad
ually and cautiously boring holes through
my midriff,, | would get it out and smell
of it. Ii there were any other old Sierra
Nevada desperadoes around, which was
generally the case, they would smell
of it, too, and we would sniff and shed
tears over it between drinks. One horny
handed old fellow that l met in Mexico
begged SO hard for it that gave it to him,
and he sold me q silver-mounted six
shooter, with five nOtcheS in the handle
for only s. IS more than it cost him.
He said ne hadn't smelled tarweed for
so long that it seemed like old times to
get sniff of it once more. And then he
told me that he lived at Montezuma Hill
long years ago; that his wife was worn
out by the long trip across the plains and
died at sacramento. Then he took his
little eight-year-old son and went up to
MonteZuma Hill. For year or so little
Bobby got along all right, and then be
was sick for long time, and then Death
took him. and then-and then the heart
broken father dug little grave under the
pines, where the ground was covered
with a mass of tarweed, and planted him.
Il s'pose l couldn't find little Bobby's
grave now," he said, land l don't knows
I'll ever try. When Bobby up am died
his pore old father was mana strong
an lissom man. His hands was clean.
Pears like as if | went back an stood by
Bobby's grave he'd be ashamed OF my
hands cause I've seen some terrible
tough times since then, an there's bin
times when the fingers | pull my trig-
gers with was all covered with corns Lord
how this little bit Of dry tarweed brings
it all back again! 1t makes me feel pow
erful weakt''
If / were not relating an ''ower true
tale'' l might weave very nice little ro-
nance out of this desperado, the little