this unhappy affair:

'The editor of the "Tea-Pot" has the honor of advising the editor of the
"Gazette" that he (the "Tea-Pot") will take an opportunity in tomorrow
morning's paper, of convincing him (the "Gazette") that he (the
"Tea-Pot") both can and will be his own master, as regards style; he
(the "Tea-Pot") intending to show him (the "Gazette") the supreme,
and indeed the withering contempt with which the criticism of him (the
"Gazette") inspires the independent bosom of him (the "TeaPot") by
composing for the especial gratification (?) of him (the "Gazette")
a leading article, of some extent, in which the beautiful vowel--the
emblem of Eternity--yet so offensive to the hyper-exquisite delicacy
of him (the "Gazette") shall most certainly not be avoided by his (the
"Gazette's") most obedient, humble servant, the "Tea-Pot." "So much for
Buckingham!"'

In fulfilment of the awful threat thus darkly intimated rather than
decidedly enunciated, the great Bullet-head, turning a deaf ear to all
entreaties for 'copy,' and simply requesting his foreman to 'go to the
d----l,' when he (the foreman) assured him (the 'Tea-Pot'!) that it was
high time to 'go to press': turning a deaf ear to everything, I say, the
great Bullet-head sat up until day-break, consuming the midnight oil,
and absorbed in the composition of the really unparalleled paragraph,
which follows:--

'So ho, John! how now? Told you so, you know. Don't crow, another time,
before you're out of the woods! Does your mother know you're out? Oh,
no, no!--so go home at once, now, John, to your odious old woods of
Concord! Go home to your woods, old owl--go! You won't! Oh, poh, poh,
don't do so! You've got to go, you know! So go at once, and don't go
slow, for nobody owns you here, you know! Oh! John, John, if you don't
go you're no homo--no! You're only a fowl, an owl, a cow, a sow,--a
doll, a poll; a poor, old, good-for-nothing-to-nobody, log, dog, hog, or
frog, come out of a Concord bog. Cool, now--cool! Do be cool, you fool!
None of your crowing, old cock! Don't frown so--don't! Don't hollo, nor
howl nor growl, nor bow-wow-wow! Good Lord, John, how you do look! Told
you so, you know--but stop rolling your goose of an old poll about so,
and go and drown your sorrows in a bowl!'

Exhausted, very naturally, by so stupendous an effort, the great
Touch-and-go could attend to nothing farther that night. Firmly,
composedly, yet with an air of conscious power, he hande