The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1897-01-28
The Wayside Zepher.
"a Recollection.)

Read at the meeting of the Maine Pr
Association in Augusta, Jan. 27, 1897. |
Speakin' bout newspapers
An members er tn press,
Er form immigration
An financial distress,
On account er gold an silver
An overproduction an sich,
Ez told Ezra Jackson
We cudn!t all be rich,
An we had this pint settled
Round tn stove in Crabtree's store
An argied all ter pieces
Till we cudn't argie more.
Thet farmers, tn producers,
Work too many hours day,
Which gives us overproduction,
An thets why tn farms don't pay.
Vile them chaps down ter tn city
Ihet make sich pesky fuss,
Bout their luv' fer TIL farmer
Git their lvin' out er u.s.
Wich makes me think er som thin
1tain't like I'll forgit,
An tho it happened years ago
1t fingers with me yit,
An when l git excited
On sum new scheme er plan,
l calm myself by thinkin
Er tn Wayside Zepher man.
Th' year ar aaventy-fIrae.
Thet ank subscription agent
He fust appeared ter me,
An said he's introducin'
An enterprisin' sheet,
Without tn Waysde Zepher
No home cud be complete
| lowed we didn't want it
But finally sez he,
III stop ter dinner long yer
An send it six months free.
My woman tho't she'd like it
Ter hav' one fer ourselves,
Eff 'twasn't good fer nothin' else
IWOuld do ter cover shelves,
An, so took th' pesky thing
An tn agent went away,
But never a hair er hide er him
Hev' | seen since thet day.
One night | drempt caught him
An he'd him by tn collar,
An broke my goad stick over him
Wich cost me most dollar,
An when [ woke up l wuz sorry
Now jest between me an you,
Thet these pleasant dreams Ell ours
So seldom do cum true.
Wal tn paper cum along all right
An equiled my wust fears,
'Twuz mugwump in it's politicks
An neutral in ideas.
1t had some funny items,
Sum yarns thet wuz surErinin',
Few deaths an marriages throwed in
Th' rest wuz advertlsin'
1t cum ter us week arter week
Till ter see it made me sick,
1t staid with us year arter year
Like plaster bound to stick.
An, sir, yer cudn't stop it
No morn yer cue th' sun,
A risin' over th hilltops
An settin' when day is done.
l wrote tn critters to stop it
An invite she wrote 'em too,
An sum er tn neighbors wrote 'em
An sod postmaster Drew.
But they paid no attention
An tn paper cum in each week,
While tn bill KEEP CROWN bigger
Most swampin us, so ter speak.
Till along cum another agent
An called on me one day,
With bill fer twenty dollars
Wich he sed I'd hev' ter pay.
Now I'm church goin' man, sir,
An don't mean no one harm,
But put my cowhides ter him
An helped him off er my farm.
Then tn sheriff cum ter see me
An told him bout tn trick,
He said he didn't blame me
'Twuz time fer me ter kick.
An tho he 'tached my property
Ez he he'd ter by his writ,
1 cu'd see he wuz Uneasy
An didn't like ter bit.
Wal they got n execution
An er course | he'd ter pay,
But when another number
Er tn Zepher cum next day,
| sent it back with letter
No Christian man shu'd see,
But tn BLOWN up | gin 'em
Wuz great relief ter me.
| don't take no newspaper,
But I've got Saint Bernard.
He amt Jest fond er agents
An when one strikes our yard,
Thet dog he interviews him
With an awful smile, they say.
An TIL agents coat-tails vanish
Der tn hills, mile away.
FRANK Fl Conn,