The Washington times., 1894-04-01
THE MAN AT THE HEAD
OF THE HEADLIGHT.

vi ILL uUAUUlVu1s IL
I had more fun than barrelful Of balloons
while Twas en- evidence as editor Of the North
wood On. Dak,) Headlight.
It was soft, bright, fragrant day in Septem-
Der when reached Northwood, after jour-
kansas. When stepped of the cars there
wasn't a soul in sight save the people on the
train, and they steamed of before could
turn heel. The village consisted of soli-
tary street, lined with clapboard houses, and
surrounded by a level prairie that spread of
and off and off till lost in the dim distance Of
the stainless skyline, piairie, unbroken by
hillock. tree, or haystack; but just north of
the village 1 saw a pillar OF smoke that
twisted and coiled and lifted its black length
till lost in shining space.
I walked up the one street, past store after
store, Office after Office, house after house,
but met no one, saw no one, heard no one,
till finally came to the pillar of SMOKE and
there. SO help me! were BAT Norske men,
women, and chidren-the whole population,
in fact-fghting a prairie fire by slashing it
with coffee-bags saturated in water. The
flames went twining and springing and
writhing their way through the tall, dry
grass like myriad of fiery serpents just re-
leased from hades. 1 picked up a discarded
coffee-bag, dipped il in handy tub, and be-
gan to battle with the flames, Just as though
1 had been fighting prairie fires all my life.
The victory was won at last, and the master
spirit of this army of the employed came up
to me, called me by name, and said:
81 am the proprietor of the Headlight. /
knew you by picture 1 saw of you once.
Let's mosey over to the Office
1 found the Headlight located In an un-
painted board building. The plant was
primitive, but the paper was doing rafting
good business.
Now" said the proprietor. 'I want you to
turn in and turn out the most luridIy electric
light editorials at your command"
So turned In and turned out salutatory
under the head of "Our Signal Gun," begin
ming as follows:
"To-day the Headlight enters upon a new edi-
torial trend, and from this hour on it proposes
to boil hell down to a half pint once week and
administer the medicine at single dose. Now
Is the time to subscribe"
The second issue of the paper under nv
administration was nearly ready for the press
and our publication day would break with
the morrow.
Well, long bout midnight I was wakened
from a rosy dream by the cry of .'fre," and
looking from my window 1 saw the Headlight
building wrapped in glory of golden flames.
Now, there and then. was the time that I
looked for sympathy. had Travelled from the
tailend of an Arkansaw alligator swamp to the
neighborhood OF the North Pole for the pur-
pose of reforming lost and ruined world
only to be burned out at the very beginning
of my missionary career. 1t was q time for
sympathy, say. but United States Senator
Hansbrough, then of the Devils Lake, Nd,
Inter-Oeean, and lot more of ribald and
unregenerate journalists up that way thought
1t was simply a time for sport and COM
mented ON the confiagration in 4 vein of lev
ity, of which the following is a sample:
while the North-wood Headlight boiling
hell down to a half-pint the other day the
dun thing stopped over on the stove, caught
fire, burned the building and there you arel" E
Mad? / was mad enough to chaw my ears
off, but, thank fortunei l have lived to see
the time when one of the merry miscreants
-Hansbrough- has been sentenced by his
own state for term of years to-the United
States Senate.
Well, the Headlight started up again, and 1
was sitting at my desk in the raw dusk of
November day when man came in with a
jag and a jug. He placed the jug upon the
floor, while he put his jag and himself in
convenient chair
''You're the yeditor?'' he said. tentatively.
II confessed to being the criminal in ques-
tion.''
'.Tnars lack of poicks in the United
Sta (hic) ates now, hain't thar?'
"a decidedly refreshing Lack" conceded.
"Wall, thar hain't goin' to be no lack O.
pO tHlcJ eSstS eZ long my Mirduuy XIII
claw the chords OF her harp. Now, here's
her last, an she only wants a tenner for it.
Listen:
My muse begins to soar and sing
Besause she sees the voice of SPRING"
"Hears the voice." 1 interposed.
''No, sir Sees the voice. an by the way,
I'd jist like tu ask if Mirandy or you is
writin' o. this here gem?'
"Mirandy," eagerly averred.
"Wall. then, listen to her bezoo till I've fin
ished before you toot your own"
Proceed
~ hear the flowers blooming round
Ger all our one hundred and sixty acres Of
ground"
"Gur-reat gur-ravyI The meterI'' sighed
to myself.
The old man eyed me sharply, but went on;
"And now feel my noble name
Will tumble through the trump of fame,
While one who long for fame has yearned
Has passed into the Dim Bedurned
speak of poor old Nancy Moore.
Who things that she can sing and soar.
My, sakes. the old and ornery thing
Once stole her mothers wedding-ring,
And"
''Hold" I yelled, 81 wouldn't print that
poem. as you call it, for 81 371S.''
wont print this (hic) ere heavenly squirt
of song?''
''NixyI''
'Wall, I'll take it over to Hank Hans
brough, an when you behold it a fiashin' in his
colyums, and sendin' his paper down to
everlastin' (hic) glory, you'll see that you hev
lost the grand opperchoonity of yer iife.''
He left with jug and jag and looking mad
enough to kick his coat-tails through the
crown of his hat.
WILL HUBBARD HERMAN.