St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-12-03

chasin' itself through my whole sistum.
My jints begun 10 feel as ii they he'd
been rubbed down with lie frum the
hinges of the New Jerusalum. l felt
angels fiddlin' with my heart strings.
Ev'ry HAIR Oh my head stood on end an
danced to the music. My hat flew Off.
an L hoed up two hills er taters. My
eyes sQulrted chain lightnin', an the
chain stretched frum earth to heaven,
an L felt tibet l wuz anchored to the
front gate of paradise, am could shin
into glory an sing as we'll as
any on 'em. My dog looked at
me an set up howl. could
hear the grass growin', an it growed to
the same tune that the stars danced to.
The new pertatoes under my feet smiled
at me out of their eyes. Wen the wind
blew through my whiskers it wuz sur
priced at the music it made. The hull
universe wuZ music box, an wuz
turnin' the crank, an no monkey went
roun' with hat to take up collection.
| felt that | wuz the twin brother of
Natur't, an tibet she loved me like gal
loves her best Teller, an tibet she wuz
kissin' me with her sunshine an cares
sim me with her breezes. Thet poem
WuZ sproutin' in my brain, an If the
cows he'd broke into my back garden
an ct up my best cabbages l shouldn't
| a-seen ;em. My caff, tied in the front
yard, might a-broke loose an chawed
all the clo'es on Maria's close line l
shouldn't a-noticed him. A man might
| a-cOme roun' to pay bill. | wouldn't
| a-Seen him if the bill wuz as big as tour
dollars an half. l couldn't a-seen
! HIM nor a-heerd him, for wuz hitched
to long-distance telephone an one end
OF it wuz in the central Office of Ever
lastin' Glory, an the other end
OF 1t WuZ in my later patch.
an l wuz there listenin' to it an
havin' confidential chat with the uni
verse. wuz gettin' the returns straight
from headquarters, am |, Theodore W.
Calkins, of Pokumville, for the time
bein', wuz the bigges' man anywheres
between here an the North Star. was
the bigges' man, an | knew it. My
| head wuZ large enough to wear the sky
| for cap. l could ha' used the sun aD'
| moon for wheels to my dingle cart.
filled up the air an Tapped over on both
sides. Eternity wuz too small for me.
"Wall, sir, rushed into the house.
Threw off my coat, threw off my vest,
flung one boot under the bed an the
other through the lookin' glass, tore my
hair, rolled up my sleeves, sweat like a
1ollSI III q udy-1IlOW III July, an SET
down to write thet poem. 70 could ha'
boiled an aig in my brain vile / wuz
a-writin' it. Tibet poem, sir, bust outer
me like the cork out of beer bottle. l
held it as long ez could. an then ex-
exploded; an then went to bed an wuz
sick for week.
wall, wen got up sent that poem
to the Pokumville Gazette, an what do
you think?'
why they published it on the first
page with illustrations"
"No, sir, they sent it back an said
they regretted they couldn't use it.
They said it would be good poem if it
| wasn't lackin' in thought an express
sion an pottery; an ever sence then
they've kept on publishin' sappy stuff
every week, almost poor enough to go
in the magazines. That poem er mine
would ha' made Shakespeare flop over
III his grave; an yit it warn't good
enough for the Pokumville Gazette.
"An' the PokumvilIe Gazette amt
good enough for me, an if it wuz COW
cred over with one hundred dollar bills
l wouldn' subscribe for it. So you
| might as we'll trot along. young Teller
If you are out gunnin' for subscribers
you've come to the wrong place for
game"