The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1896-01-23

n used ter think it kind 'er strange,
Until one day the news come out
That the deacon had abused the lad,
An wouldn't give him any show;
Till finally the boy got mad
An says "tis time fer me ter 90.
Thar's nothin here fer me but beatin'
An I'll not wait another day.
So when the deacon went to meetin'
Life locked the store an run away.
He trudged all night an when mornin' came.
Weary an sad set on a stone
His feet was sore, his legs was lame,
An every bit 'er his courage gone.
He sat thar wonderin' what he should do.
In the great big world he'd read about;
Where money is king, an the men are few
Who can laugh at his sceptre. stan right
out,
An fight for right in a world 'er wrong,
Civ their best years ter their Teller men;
An wondered how he'd git along
No friends, no money, but his thoughts
jest then
Was turned ter rumblin' down the road,
An lumberin' along ter where he sat
d
An the driver stopped ter hev a chat
An told the boy ter jump right in
An go along with him ter town;
Asked where he was goin' an where he Il
BEEN
An how he came ter be sittin' down
Thar by the roadside so far away
From every body an everything;
w barh Outs bt4 tar
And how long he'd been travellin'.
Lie told his story with many I sob,
An the good mans heart in anger rose;
Says he, my boy, I'll get yer Job
When git ter town, er my name amt
Gross
Thars Teller thar friend 'er mine,
Who runs a paper called the Bee,
helped him once n that same line,
An l think he'll do as much for me
An sure enough, when they reached the
The farmer whistlin merrily
Drove up an laid the ribbns down,
Front 'er the sign 'er the Buzztown Bee.
He found the editor, Mr.. Drake,
Shook hans and says, Chow are We, Jim,
L We biouSiiu d iOS III yer utE TAKE
An make rr editor out 'er him.
An then he joked with the sanctum man,
Told Lies story an asked his aid;
Till the editor says, "Ill do it, Dam
An Lie was prenticed ter learn the trade.
He proved ter be faithful an quick ter learn,
An the works 'er the dera he learned
right through;
Gentle spring poems he loved ter burn,
An he tempted the editor, as derils do
He learned the an ter run the press
Worked hard an always was on han,
Till the editor says, "I rather guess
He's goin ter make first class man.
So as years rolled on it wasn't strange
The editor this thing should do;
Says he, "We're goin' ter make change,
An how does the foreman's job strike
yon?'
Life worked twelve years for the Buzztown
An learned the business in every part
Savln' his money carefully,
Kinder hopin' ter git start
Some day fer himself, fer Lie was wise,
An never had many wild oats sown,
An people said 'twouldn't be no surprise
If he had paper some day Ter his own,
OAA
Watched his chances an did his best
An one day took his little pile,
Threw up his job an went out west.
He bought paper in a thrivin' town,
Whose subscription list was spare an
thin;
An people said twas all run down,
N sick beyond recoverin.
l. liked his office up trim an neat,
An went at things in a business way,
Ter give the town first class sheet.
An said he hoped ter make it pay.
He slZed the people up jest right
An saw way out 'er his fix;
He doomed the town with all his might
An let alone er politics.
Soon new subscribers begun ter come
An old ones too sent in their pay;
An things at the office commenced ter hum
An out on the street you could hear folks
say,
The Bungtown Times is improvin so,
| think I'll have ter take it again:
L stopped morn year ago
An 50 did all my nelghbors, but then
Twas a radical sort 'er sheet,
An didn't amount ter an old brass PIN
But this feller's changed things round com
plete,
An l guess that he is prospern.'
An this was true, fer the deacon's clerk,
Was climbn' the ladder, round by round,
He stuck ter his office an did his work
An when the people 'er Bungtown found
| That Lie was Jest the kind FER man
They'd always needed in the town;
They begun ter give him helpin' han
| Instid 'er tryin' ter run him down.
An when the town increased in size,
| An become a city FER wealth an fame,
They 'lected mayor an thought it wise,
| That Elijah Dobson should be his name.
Ter-day in that city er wealth an fame
Thar sits a man in the mayors chair
Grown old an portly, but still the same
| Who worked fer the deacon when l was
| thar
In Hayseed, that was in fifty three,
| An lookin' back on his lifes -turned page
| He thinks the thing that was best fer me
| Was little Lie Dobson's pilgrimage.
FRANK 81. COLLEY.