The Warwickshire Herald. — 1889-12-12 (Birmingham, West Midlands, England)

SONG OF THE CAN'T-GET-THERE. For the few-and-far-between, For the very-seldom-seen, '• For the un-catch-hold-uponable I sigh! The unclutchable I'd clutch, The untouchable I'd touch, For the ungrabbed and ungrabbable I die! Oh, I burn and sigh and clasp For the just-beyond-the-grasp, For the far timovertakable I yearn; And the vulgar here-and-now I ignore and disavow, And the good-enough-for-others, how I spurn Oh, I moan and cry and screech For the just-beyond-the-reach, . .  The too-far-aw-ay-to-iraii-I-Wollia-ensnare; The ungainable I'd gain, The unattainable attain, And chase the un catch-onto to his lair! —New York Mercury.  "TRUTHFUL _JERMS."  There were tgee-o-rWui:ad-c;aieTs-seated around a stove in the back room of an Austin saloon toasting their shins and spinning yarns. An old stagedriver named Smooth with a bald head and long bowl, which probably owed its peculiar colour to his habit of chewing tobacco for the last forty years, spoke up and said: "The best-hearted man I ever knew in my life was Bob Hinkley,who used to be sheriff up in Nebraska in the early days. He was the whitest man I ever saw. He was the easiest man on prisoners that ever lived. When a prisoner's time was up he always refused to go; he had such a nice time in gaol. By thunder in some cases the county attorney had to get out writs for trespass just as you do in eases where a tenant refuses to get out of a house, in order to get those prisoners out of gaol. Bob Hinkley used to feed them so well, and treated them so gentlemanly, that men would shoot somebody for no other purpose than to get into that gaol. I was there myself for a week or so, waiting to be vindicated on the charge of stealing a hog. Well, one day—it was awful warm—Sheriff Hinkley sent a man who was in for murder across the street to a ealoon to bring in a trayful of drinks for the prisoners. We waited for a good while, and one of us helloed out from the gaol window for the murderer to bring over them drinks quick, as we were suffering for them. But be didn't come back worth a cent. When Bob Hinkley came in we said to him: 'Mr. Sheriff, that murderer ain't got back with them drinks.' It WM hinted around among us that the murderer had lit out, but old Bob wouldn't listen to it. He burst into tears, and said: I know that poor boy hasn't left me. Somebody must have kidnapped him. I am sure something must have happened to him. Come, boys, let's hunt him up.' And all the gaol birds, counterfeiters and the like, turned out and hunted that whole town over." " Did they find the missing murderer?' "Yes, we found him. It was just as Sheriff Hinkley, or Bob, as we used to call hie?, said. The murderer never ran away. He had been kidnapped by a vigilance committee and was hanging to a tree, so we never got those drinks. We all came back to gaol looking very blue. After that we !prisoners quit strolling about town and going about hunting, but Bob Hinkley made it so comfortable for us that we didn't care to stroll. He had a saloon, a reading room, a shooting gallery, and a billiard-table fixed up for us in gaol, for fear he might lose some of us. It ain't often you find a sheriff taking such care of the prisoners." The speaker, having finished, got up and strolled out. One of the other old codgers spoke up, and motioning to the retiring form of the last speaker said:—  - - - " He ain't himself now, but when he was a younger man, before he lost his memory and his -magination, he could lie powerful. If he don't do better after awhile, people will call him ' Truthful Jeems.' " American Paw..