The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1892-05-21
HIS CALENDAR.
II Was Original with Him, b"s t"e -"
itor Didn't Want II.

| lid OkILTNOSUs
II Was Original with Him, p"s inc "~'
itor Didn't Want II.
Tie was n thin man with long mayon-
naise rinrlet- that rested on bis shoulders
and made the existence oi collar about
his neck matter OF faith in the behoider'
lie stepped lightly in and asked the eoi,or'
How would you like an original caieh-
dar for 1882" 81,
"Wbo originated its" asked the editor.
81 did. ~ replied the poet, with pleasant
tmile
at is pretty early 20 think Of caiennar
for 1919. - said the editor refiectively, but
| how does it goY"
part Of il is in the conventional rut, such
as indicating the anniversary OF the birth
OF Andrew Jackson and the battle OF Bue-
ma Vista. All the changes Of the moon are
duly chronicled. but the thing have just
laid myself out on is the poetical business"
Lets hear some Of il, " said the editor.
"To begin with" replied the poet, run
ming his fingers through his mayonnaise
hair dreamily, II have credited the verses
20 imaginary poets. Now here is one Tor
Nav attributed 20 J. r. Outerbridge;
Now the balmy breeze i blowing
DER the bosom Of the lea,
And the apple tree Is showing
Fragile blossoms in a sea.
Nov would you like a comic snapper
on the end?" asked the poet, pausing.
Eyes, said the editor.
And the billy goat is going
For the hoopskirt IN his glee,
And the biucbrds OVERLOOKING
With its tra-la-la-la-le.
Allows thats" asked the poet.
''First rate" said the editor, pausing In
bis work and putting his feet on the desk.
'Now let's see what you have TO say about
October"
The poet was beside himself with JOY. II
was ali he could do TO keep still. And the
editor thought nothing Of it when he beat
time with his foot Ikea banjo player while
he read:
Oh. silver frost is nipping
All the roses in the mead,
While the scarlet leaf is skipping
And the baseball's gone % seed.
There's a hectic beauty floating
Like a phantom round the weir.
And the henchman dreams Of voting
As be sips the amber beer,
While the lily
In the chilly
Zephyr seems TO disappear
81 attribute that 10 Hieronymus Oily
plant" said the poet as lac paused.
1T is very fine" remarked the editor,
"but You must have something Of very
soulful character, referring 70 that chaste
ambrosial season when the marrowfat pea
peeps from the moist. warm earth|
Il have" replied the poet, ''in my lyric
on June"
Now the rosy posy springtimo1s
Cavorting ike phantom.
And tho flowers In the garden
Are uprooted by the bantam.
Now tho ice mans up and doing.
And the baseball seasons booming,
And beside the pleasant brookside
The Wild poppy flower Is blooming.
care the verses on the other months as
good?" asked the editor
ION the average, yes" replied the poet,
land have taken pains 10 make them all
popular in tone, with lots Of high poetic
trimmings. ] have done them IN the finest
style Of the divine art, and they are so con
structed that with slight change they
can be made into patent medicine verses.
What do you think of the scheme?"
"Fine," said the editor.
Us it worth = 50;" asked the poet hope
fully.
mot to us, said the editor, because it
is not in our line. If it were in our line 1t
would be worth an even three dollars, but
not being in our line, it IS not worth any
more to US than a pair OF bracelets would
be TO an elephant"
ut was pretty rough 10 raise my eX-
pectations in that way and then let me
down so hard and suddenly" moaned the
poet in a fine sweet sorrow.
II only treated you with politeness. It
is usually said that editors throw poets
down stairs and out Of windows. If had
done that you would think me brute
Now You think me hard and unamiable
when / am doing my utmost 10 treat you
with courtesy and consideration, don't
you"
yes" said the poet.
"Then," said the editor, here is s. so
for your calendar. Now, l want you TO go
forth am say there is one white editor in the
land who treats the poet like an antique
god"
The poet said he would, and as he headed
for beanery with the q 90 in his bony
hand, lac sang:
The goldenrod is blowing,
And the purple aster too,
And the ashen rabbits skipping