The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1894-09-13
A YOUTHFUL SHELLEY.
How His Poem Was Printed in the
Gazette

1.-The Shelley of Muskrat swamp
lay dying in his bunk. There was no
doubt about that whatever to any or
binary dispassionate observer, But
the one observer. the sole critic of the
moribund poet, was not dispassionate.
and he refrained from obtruding the
fact upon the notice of the sick youth.
Outside the wind roared through the
bush: the churned waters of the an
CRY Ottawa beat against the wooden
piers, their rough music calling upon
the youthful Shelley to depart through
the Valley of the Shadow, although he
knew it not.
{ Amid the bowling of the wind. the
h6arse roar of the flood, the craclle of
the logs upon the hearth. came the
soft, silvery tones of the invalid, recit-
ing moving composition which had
occupied his attention for the last ten
hours, that is. when he was not other
wise occupied in splitting blood or
coughing. The one oil lamp on
wooden stool by his bunk gave out
smoky light, through which the boys
eyes shone with unearthly brilliancy.
Jake, Timber Jake, as he was popu-
larly known among the gentlemen
he distinguished by his jovial prefer
ence-sat on the only other stool which
the log hut boosted.
Now and then he threw in different
suggestions as to the originality of the
poets natural history, suggestions
which the latter received with petu-
tributions to the literature of his ma
tive land were invariably rejected.
Timber Jake continued to listen to the
poem with labored cordially. At ip-
tervals, when he was evidently ex-
pected to applaud, he did SO with tin
spoon against battered old kettle, at
the same time drawing the coverlet
over the wasted arm which held the
sheets of MS.
There" said the poet, as he finished.
"Stop your internal row for moment.
What do you think of that, Jake?"
Me not bein' scholard," Jake re-
piled, in slow, simple tones. as he
dropped the spoon on the ground, me
not bein' scholard, you SEE to me, ez
between. man and man: Jake, old
pard, how does 1t pan out?' And
SEE to you, me not bein' a scholard,
but ez between man and man: Bed
rock, every darned line of it. Bed
rock Thar's things there like the
singin of robbins in spring; thar's
things there like the little flashes of
light when dragonfies goes across the
sunshine; thar's things there ez
Shakespeare couldn't ha' done, or-or,"
somewhat lamely added, the Frisco
Times, or any of them mud-colored
ink-slingers over the river
The youths cheek flushed warmly at
this wholehearted eulogy. AT the
sound of it he momentarily turned
away from the entrance to the Valley
of Death. Then he shook his head.
and fell back in the bunk with sigh.
Maybe. Jake" he said. Maybe
bat for all that the burned old editor
at Marysville won't print EN- unless
they're paid for at advertiser rates.
He sent back the last lot sorter sar-
castle, with his compliments to The
Shelley of Muskrat swamp and he
wasn't takin' any stock in poetry or
chipmunks just then"
An ominous frown gathered on
Timber Jake's brow.
"BeiR 2 one-hoss concern. he natral-
~ wouldn't know real heightened
poetry when he had it chucked under
his nose, the apdoodle-eatin' slum-
gullion. You lowed jest now ez you
felt sort of chill when his arnser
came back?"
"A death chill, Jake. Timber raft
ing begun it, and that Marysville
coon's sorter finished me up. Yes, I'm
goin' under Don't you hear the river
calm, calm, calm: Come away"
Jake did affect TO despise the gray
atty of the situation, but listened to the