Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1903-10-24

hankered to have my name at
tached to magazine articles and
in school books and to have young
ladies of future generations form
clubs to study my works. That
is-my literary works. I thirsted
with an unirrigationable thirst to
have my bust or at least a plaster
cast of it repose on the bookcases
of the universe along with
Shakespeare's image and the carcass
of stuffed screech owl with the
sawdust seeping out under the
wings. I wanted to have preachers
and politicians and journalists steal
scraps of my brain brats to weave
into their sermons and addresses
and essays and I wanted the
summer tourist to hack up my
tombstone for souvenirs.
It used to worry me when saw
the chubby features. of Henry Ward
Beecher on cigarbox lid and Ben
Franklin's portrait on soap wrap
per because I feared I should never
attain to such eminence. When l
read that there were on exhibition in
various museums as many as fifteen
different skulls Of Lafayette it
made me sad to think I had but
one measly little old skull to hand
down to Prosperity and grew dis
couraged. When I learned that
there were in existence seven
hundred and twenty eight pairs
of cavalry boots that Jesse James
wore when killed, I grew morose
because I wasn'ta thousand legged
crawler or a centipede with a
cavalry boot on every leg. What
was the use of me going about
writing my name on scraps OF
paper and hiding them in holes
in the WALL for future generations
to dig out-when I had but one
scrawny skull and a solitary pair
of boots to bequeathe to humanity?
When Napoleon's old pants sold
for thirty thousand francs felt
like taking mine off and cram
ming them into the furnace and
giving up my ambition.
Many time lay awake all night
plotting to become famous all
such longings are now but frag-
ments Of busted yearn. Instead
of lying awake plotting to gain
renown I have quit sleeping en-
tirely for fear I will awake some
morning as Byron did and find
myself famous for fame isn't what
it's cracked up to be in the books.
Look at poor old Queen Victoria.
She died a few years ago with
great honor and the govt. She
was famous yet one of my last
weeks exchanges says of her:
Queen Victoria takes her principal
meal at two o'clock and although
there is an elaborate dinner for
court at nine o'clock at which her
majesty always appears she seldom
takes anything but little bouillon.
The queen always eats a certain
kind of bread very much baked
and brown in color. In her young
er days she liked claret or cham
payne for dinner but now, by her
doctors advice, she takes a little
weak whisky and soda, and choco-
late has been substituted for tea" If
the poor old lady didn't fit SO snug
in her box she would probably rise
up and urge the editor Of that
paper to buy some new stereotype
plate.
Such a modern fame-and the
ancient variety is fast crumbling
to decay. Noah was long con-
sidered the first sailor but today
they have found boats that his
ancestors made 5000 years before
he was born. Nobody believes
anymore that Jonah was really
swallowed by the whale. 1t has
been proven that Columbus didn't
discover America. Everybody
knows that Washington did lie
about the cherry tree. There was
a niger boy on the Washington
plantation named Ike. After
George cut down the cherry tree his
father asked him about it and he
said-'I cannot tell lie. Ike
did it with my little hatchetw His
father thought he said II did it,
and let him off. In literature we
are told that Poe stole his Raven
from the Chinese and that the
man with the hoe didn't have
hoe at all-it was only a garden