nsil to see that no lickher was
sold to delergates!" You bet there was a mad crowd, wen they found out
there warnt no fire a tall in Sheecargo. The 'xchange fyend's gone
to New Jersey, cos it'll have time to blow over, 'fore Congres can
promulgait a xtrodishun treety, with that government.

This afternoon, I was appalled, my grate big spirit fell down into my
shoes, like a Jump of led. Alass how grate the breech is, tween the
orthor, and the columns of a noospaper, and how short the rode, wot
leeds to the waist basket, espeschially the one, in a printin offis like
the Daily "Buster," were the basket covers bout a square akrc of flore.
I was put to cleenin up the waste basket, so as we'd hav the paper
reddy, for the junk man, wot calls round with his six horse teem of
goverment muels, once a week, I coldn't help lingerin over the contents,
and sying, wen I thought, of the hopes wot lied burried thare. There was
one littel peece of poultry, rittin on a sheet of 'lectric blue paper,
and sented with otto of roses, and indited to "My dare George." I wunder
if the poultryess ment me, wen she rote it, cos if she did, she struck
it jest rite, for Ive got it stowed away, in my pants pocket next my
hart.

There was a nother roll of manerskript, wot wayed a pound, and come by
xpress, without bein pade. I guess the edittur was mad, wen he paid 50
sents charges, and found out it warnt no berthday present. A note with
it, red like this:

My dare Edittur Buster--

The enclosed storie entitled "Dudish Dick, the Flirtin
Corn-Doctor of Horse-car No. 36," is wurth $500, but in
complerment of the high standin of your valewbel jurnal, I
will allow you to publish it for notthin, if you will send
me papers containin it.

Yours trooly,

Sammy Lane, Author.

Wat unappreciatin beins editturs are! Wen they wuld let a geneyus wot
was capable of pennin the follerin lines go unrewarded:

A big politishun named Kelley,
Had a gripin pane in his belly.
He used St. Jacobs oil,
And now he's nussin a boil,
But his pane has left him by golly.

CHAPTER IV.

HE AIN'T NO TYPERGRAFFICKAL CYCLOPEEDA.--SERIUS
COMPLERCASHUNS, WITH A TEMPORY ABBERASHUN.--A PRINTIN' OFFIS
FEED.

I'm in a peck of troubel to-day, wot I'll have ter trust ter Providence
to get me outer. A typergraffickal devil ain't s'posed to know
everything, enyway.