The record-union., 1897-09-28
Revenge OF a Poet.

Briggs wrote poetry. He did 1t in
sl1rreptitious manner, and when he was
in the throes preliminary to new pro-
duction he went around with the sad,
renorseful demeanor of a man with a
past.
The rest of the fellows in the office
having observed these periods OF intro
spective musings were at loss to ac-
count for them in the ordinary way OF
laying it to liver troubles or love, and
had Briggs been the cashier or the
treasurer instead of being mere book
keeper there would have been bad
scandal on hand.
But one day the accidental discovery
of a couple Of verses written on a scrap
of paper which had been thrown into the
waste-paper basket solved the mystery
and at the same time brought hOWls OF
delight from the Indians of the office
force, who speedily gathered about to
peruse the tender lines Wrung from the
entiment-racked heart of the mortiled
Briggs.
Fun in copious yells of glee-laden
laughter was hurled at the red-faced,
abashed Briggs, and he was being rap
NAAA
temper when in his despair a fine
thought occurred to him and plan of
revenge was speedily mapped out.
The next day when it got along into
the lazy hours Of the afternoon Briggs
was observed with his head bent pen
sively on his hand, his penhOlder held
between his teeth, nice white block of
paper placed conveniently before him,
and his eyes cast at a studious tangent
toward a distant corner of the room.
a gasp of joy came in suppressed,
Wheezy sob from the first man who OBJ
served these manifestations indicative
that the inspiration of the muse was on;
the discovery was quickly communi-
Gated by a series of silent, agitated sig
nails to the rest of the clerks in the de-
partment and Briggs Immediately be-
came the center Of interest to a dozen
pairs of eyes.
Soon he seemed to have caught up
with and hemmed in the elusive fancy
he had been pursuing and he began
scribbling in an excited, feverish man
ner on his block of paper.
This finished, he dropped his pen, read
his production to himself in evident en-
jOyment and then placing the writing
carefully under a corner of the big
ledger he adjourned in the direction Of
the ice-cooler.
The moment he disappeared through
the door Of the department there was a
Wild rush for that piece of paper, and
the time-keeper, a large, burly fellow
with sonorous voice, got it.
"Oh. ha-ha!" he yelled in glee. And
holding it up he began to read:
Oh flowers that droop-
"Oh-h! - wow-wow-ha-h hal" This
from the crowd
And, with difficulty controlling his
great joy, the timekeeper continued:
Forsaken by the spring.
At this there came signs of demorali-
zation on the part of the crowd. "Rr-a-
ghgh!" they howled, while the time
keeper looked around helplessly for a
chair.
Q, trees that fade when autumn leaves re-
move.
Say, is not absence death to those that
lowe?
The timekeeDer managed to get the
last few words out in a muff1ed paroxy
ism, While the rest of the crowd were in
the last throes of violent convulsion.
"Ow! Wow! 'Death-ha! hal Say
oh!-Love'-ha! ha! he! he. Rr-r-agh!"
And just then Briggs came back look
ing strangely pleasant, in spite of the
commotion. He looked around at the
convulsed crowd in an inquiring man
ner. And they pointed weakly toward
the slip of paper that the timekeeper
had let fall to the floor.
"Ha! hal" they cried, with tears in
their eyes. "Oh-say but you're good
Death that loves in the spring'-wow!
ha! ha'
They had got down to a chronic state
of gibbering and only a whispering gig
gle answered the shal1ings Of their sides.
Briggs smiled also. "Oh-h-that,' he
said gayly-'yes, that's quotation
from Pope
The crowd began to freeze up and
stare at him in paralyzd, insulted
way.
You see-I just happened to find it
the other day" Briggs continued. It's
considered very good. Pope, you know,
vas almost as widely quoted as Shakes
peare."
He smiled graciousIy. The crowd,
with sickly looks stole back to their
work, and now they are agitating a plan
to raise subscriptions for the purchase
of new kind of kicking machine.-Chi-
cago News