sketches new and old-第19章

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the　community。　　It　did；　indeed；　and　I　was　very　proud　of　it；　too。　　I　was　a
printer's　〃devil；〃　and　a　progressive　and　aspiring　one。　　My　uncle　had　me
on　his　paper　（the　Weekly　Hannibal　journal；　two　dollars　a　year　in　advance
five　hundred　subscribers；　and　they　paid　in　cordwood；　cabbages；　and
unmarketable　turnips）；　and　on　a　lucky　summer's　day　he　left　town　to　be
gone　a　week；　and　asked　me　if　I　thought　I　could　edit　one　issue　of　the
paper　judiciously。　　Ah！　didn't　I　want　to　try！　　Higgins　was　the　editor　on
the　rival　paper。　　He　had　lately　been　jilted；　and　one　night　a　friend　found
an　open　note　on　the　poor　fellow's　bed；　in　which　he　stated　that　he　could
not　longer　endure　life　and　had　drowned　himself　in　Bear　Creek。　　The　friend
ran　down　there　and　discovered　Higgins　wading　back　to　shore。　　He　had
concluded　he　wouldn't。　　The　village　was　full　of　it　for　several　days；
but　Higgins　did　not　suspect　it。　　I　thought　this　was　a　fine　opportunity。
I　wrote　an　elaborately　wretched　account　of　the　whole　matter；　and　then
illustrated　it　with　villainous　cuts　engraved　on　the　bottoms　of　wooden
type　with　a　jackknifeone　of　them　a　picture　of　Higgins　wading　out　into
the　creek　in　his　shirt；　with　a　lantern；　sounding　the　depth　of　the　water
with　a　walking…stick。　　I　thought　it　was　desperately　funny；　and　was
densely　unconscious　that　there　was　any　moral　obliquity　about　such　a
publication。　　Being　satisfied　with　this　effort　I　looked　around　for　other
worlds　to　conquer；　and　it　struck　me　that　it　would　make　good；　interesting
matter　to　charge　the　editor　of　a　neighboring　country　paper　with　a　piece
of　gratuitous　rascality　and　〃see　him　squirm。〃

I　did　it；　putting　the　article　into　the　form　of　a　parody　on　the　〃Burial　of
Sir　John　Moore〃and　a　pretty　crude　parody　it　was；　too。

Then　I　lampooned　two　prominent　citizens　outrageouslynot　because　they
had　done　anything　to　deserve；　but　merely　because　I　thought　it　was　my　duty
to　make　the　paper　lively。

Next　I　gently　touched　up　the　newest　strangerthe　lion　of　the　day；　the
gorgeous　journeyman　tailor　from　Quincy。　　He　was　a　simpering　coxcomb　of
the　first　water；　and　the　〃loudest〃　dressed　man　in　the　state。　　He　was　an
inveterate　woman…killer。　　Every　week　he　wrote　lushy　〃poetry〃　for　the
journal；　about　his　newest　conquest。　　His　rhymes　for　my　week　were　headed；
〃To　MARY　IN　Hl；〃　meaning　to　Mary　in　Hannibal；　of　course。　　But　while
setting　up　the　piece　I　was　suddenly　riven　from　head　to　heel　by　what　I
regarded　as　a　perfect　thunderbolt　of　humor；　and　I　compressed　it　into　a
snappy　footnote　at　the　bottomthus：　〃We　will　let　this　thing　pass；　just
this　once；　but　we　wish　Mr。　J。　Gordon　Runnels　to　understand　distinctly
that　we　have　a　character　to　sustain；　and　from　this　time　forth　when　he
wants　to　commune　with　his　friends　in　hl；　he　must　select　some　other
medium　than　the　columns　of　this　journal！〃

The　paper　came　out；　and　I　never　knew　any　little　thing　attract　so　much
attention　as　those　playful　trifles　of　mine。

For　once　the　Hannibal　Journal　was　in　demanda　novelty　it　had　not
experienced　before。　　The　whole　town　was　stirred。　　Higgins　dropped　in　with
a　double…barreled　shotgun　early　in　the　forenoon。　　When　he　found　that　it
was　an　infant　（as　he　called　me）　that　had　done　him　the　damage；　he　simply
pulled　my　ears　and　went　away；　but　he　threw　up　his　situation　that　night
and　left　town　for　good。　　The　tailor　came　with　his　goose　and　a　pair　of
shears；　but　he　despised　me；　too；　and　departed　for　the　South　that　night。
The　two　lampooned　citizens　came　with　threats　of　libel；　and　went　away
incensed　at　my　insignificance。　　The　country　editor　pranced　in　with　a　war…
whoop　next　day；　suffering　for　blood　to　drink；　but　he　ended　by　forgiving
me　cordially　and　inviting　me　down　to　the　drug　store　to　wash　away　all
animosity　in　a　friendly　bumper　of　〃Fahnestock's　Vermifuge。〃　　It　was　his
little　joke。　　My　uncle　was　very　angry　when　he　got　backunreasonably　so；
I　thought；　considering　what　an　impetus　I　had　given　the　paper；　and
considering　also　that　gratitude　for　his　preservation　ought　to　have　been
uppermost　in　his　mind；　inasmuch　as　by　his　delay　he　had　so　wonderfully
escaped　dissection；　tomahawking；　libel；　and　getting　his　head　shot　off。

But　he　softened　when　he　looked　at　the　accounts　and　saw　that　I　had
actually　booked　the　unparalleled　number　of　thirty…three　new　subscribers；
and　had　the　vegetables　to　show　for　it；　cordwood；　cabbage；　beans；　and
unsalable　turnips　enough　to　run　the　family　for　two　dears！






HOW　THE　AUTHOR　WAS　SOLD　IN　NEWARK　＇Written　about　1869。＇

It　is　seldom　pleasant　to　tell　on　oneself；　but　some　times　it　is　a　sort　of
relief　to　a　man　to　make　a　confession。　　I　wish　to　unburden　my　mind　now；
and　yet　I　almost　believe　that　I　am　moved　to　do　it　more　because　I　long　to
bring　censure　upon　another　man　than　because　I　desire　to　pour　balm　upon　my
wounded　heart。　（I　don't　know　what　balm　is；　but　I　believe　it　is　the
correct　expression　to　use　in　this　connectionnever　having　seen　any
balm。）　You　may　remember　that　I　lectured　in　Newark　lately　for　the　young
gentlemen　of　the　…　Society？　　I　did　at　any　rate。　　During　the　afternoon
of　that　day　I　was　talking　with　one　of　the　young　gentlemen　just　referred
to；　and　he　said　he　had　an　uncle　who；　from　some　cause　or　other；　seemed　to
have　grown　permanently　bereft　of　all　emotion。　　And　with　tears　in　his
eyes；　this　young　man　said；　〃Oh；　if　I　could　only　see　him　laugh　once　more！
Oh；　if　I　could　only　see　him　weep！〃　　I　was　touched。　　I　could　never
withstand　distress。

I　said：　〃Bring　him　to　my　lecture。　　I'll　start　him　for　you。〃

〃Oh；　if　you　could　but　do　it！　　If　you　could　but　do　it；　all　our　family
would　bless　you　for　evermorefor　he　is　so　very　dear　to　us。　　Oh；　my
benefactor；　can　you　make　him　laugh？　can　you　bring　soothing　tears　to　those
parched　orbs？〃

I　was　profoundly　moved。　　I　said：　〃My　son；　bring　the　old　party　round。
I　have　got　some　jokes　in　that　lecture　that　will　make　him　laugh　if　there
is　any　laugh　in　him；　and　if　they　miss　fire；　I　have　got　some　others　that
will　make　him　cry　or　kill　him；　one　or　the　other。〃　　Then　the　young　man
blessed　me；　and　wept　on　my　neck；　and　went　after　his　uncle。　　He　placed　him
in　full　view；　in　the　second　row　of　benches；　that　night；　and　I　began　on
him。　　I　tried　him　with　mild　jokes；　then　with　severe　ones；　I　dosed　him
with　bad　jokes　and　riddled　him　with　good　ones；　I　fired　old　stale　jokes
into　him；　and　peppered　him　fore　and　aft　with　red…hot　new　ones；　I　warmed
up　to　my　work；　and　assaulted　him　on　the　right　and　left；　in　front　and
behind；　I　fumed　and　sweated　and　charged　and　ranted　till　I　was　hoarse　and
sick　and　frantic　and　furious；　but　I　never　moved　him　onceI　never　started
a　smile　or　a　tear！　　Never　a　ghost　of　a　smile；　and　never　a　suspicion　of
moisture！　　I　was　astounded。　　I　closed　the　lecture　at　last　with　one
despairing　shriekwith　one　wild　burst　of　humor；　and　hurled　a　joke　of
supernatural　atrocity　full　at　him！

Then　I　sat　down　bewildered　and　exhausted。

The　president　of　the　society　came　up　and　bathed　my　head　with　cold　water；
and　said：　〃What　made　you　carry　on　so　toward　the　last？〃

I　said：　〃I　was　trying　to　make　that　confounded　old　fool　laugh；　in　the
second　row。〃

And　he　said：　〃Well；　you　were　wasting　your　time；　because　he　is　deaf　and
dumb；　and　as　blind　as　a　badger！〃

Now；　was　that　any　way　for　that　old　man's　nephew　to　impose　on　a　stranger
and　orphan　like　me？　　I　ask　you　as　a　man　and　brother；　if　that　was　any　way
for　him　to　do？






THE　OFFICE　BORE　＇Written　about　1869＇

He　arrives　just　as　regularly　as　the　clock　strikes　nine　in　the　morning。
And　so　he　even　beats　the　editor　sometimes；　and　the　porter　must　leave　his
work　and　climb　two　or　three　pairs　of　stairs　to　unlock　the　〃Sanctum〃　door
and　let　him　in。　　He　lights　one　of　the　office　pipesnot　reflecting；
perhaps；　that　the　editor　may　be　one　of　those　〃stuck…up〃　people　who　would
as　soon　have　a　stranger　defile　his　tooth…brush　as　his　pipe…stem。　　Then　he
begins　to　lollfor　a　person　who　can　consent　to　loaf　his　useless　life
away　in　ignominious　indolence　has　not　the　energy　to　sit　up　straight。
He　stretches　full　length　on　the　sofa　awhile；　then　draws　up　to　half
length；　then　gets　into　a　chair；　hangs　his　head　back　and　his　arms　abroad；
and　stretches　his　legs　till　the　rims　of　his　boot…heels　rest　upon　the
floor；　by　and　by　sits　up　and　leans　forward；