Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1900-04-18
The Christian Mhooper.

(Ihe true story OF a western newspaper ex-
perlment.)
1.-THE Daily Whooper' of Iba Dam
Was truly progressive paper:
A fearless eXposer of every sham
And public opinion shaper
That never economlzed In ink
In telling the people what to think,
And Editor Hustler used to say.
In his own Impressive and quiet way,
If people would do as "The Whooper" said
and follow up where 'The Whooper" led.
And kept his aXles well creased with "stuff',
And sneeze when the editor took snuff,
He'd give the camp an enduring fame,
On the roster of progress would engrave Its
name;
From weak and fllckering taper
He'd make 1t an electric light
That would shine so long and would shine SO
bright
That the world would pause In its wild amaze
And fix Its eyes on the western blaze,
There WANT scheme or a startling fad
He wouldn't tackle and work, by CAD
To make it the proper caper!
He said one day that the time was ripe
For Christian daily, and twain t the Pipe
That had put the dream In his brainy head,
But he'd formed the opinion-on the dead
In his sober moments; and calling in
The parson who battled the hosts of sin
With the Gospel weapon, he laid the plan
Before the astonished holy man.
Who never dreamed that the world would send
A weapon like that to his shifting hand!
A daily paper which he could WELD
In driving the devil from the field,
And he grabbed the agent of true reform
AS the hungry bird grabs the early worm!
The preacher editor sat III his chair.
His pale lips moving as If in prayer:
And In his eyes an unusual light
That in worldly optics presages fight!
He couldn't rise to his pious feet
But returning he d find tack In his seat,
And the look on the devll's face so grim
Seemed saying: I'VE won't do a thing to him!'
There wasn't lamb in the bloomln' flock
But had happened i'll Just to have talk
And to tell him how the religious press
Should be handled to make 1t great success.
A score of poets, both hes and shes,
Had hoped around him like pesky fees,
And had read productions of every kind
That could spring as weeds from uncultured
mind.
Communications of monster size,
Enough to paper the archlng skies,
Were piled before him. and Sister Grubb
Had waltzed around him with a Jack-oak club
Because the printer had said that she
Had fleet like mammoth of old, when he7
Had written 1t plain and in letters bold
That "her faith was like a mountain of gold"
The printers were swearing and chewing plug,
And the foreman oft to the hidden jug
n III ro- .r,n nI,o,-
In handling copy to him so strange.
Yet all moved on in tangled way
Till the hour of noon on the second day,
When tough from Bitter Creek hit the floor
And proceeded to MAKE an unchristian roar:
sis you de sanctified editor? Hey?
Is you de guy dat's a-makin' do play
To run dis shop like meetin' house?
Is you deiprayln" psalm-singn' mouse
Dat dares to speak o. morality
To gang o. gentlemen such as me?
Git ready to die. fur I'm here to help
You over de river. you pious whelp!"
Then the preacher rose and peeled his coat,
And shook his beard like William goat.
And grabbed chair in his righteous hand
And sent that tough to the sulphur land.
And kicked the devil bout ten feet high.
And the foreman's face knocked into pi,
And licked the printers and smashed tho press
And pied the forms in an awful mess.
Then flew for homo in excited mood
And sought for the closets solitude,
Where his soul In prayer he upward poured
And squared himself. we hope. with the Lord.
And Editor Hustler lit Ills pipe
And resumed his chair with troubled phiz
And sadly murmured 1.-THE time is ripe.
But the man for the 'casion hasn't riz!"
Denver Post