HIS POEM DID NOT READ RIGHT.

Western Star, Issue 1294, 6 March 1897, Page 2 (Supplement)

HIS POEM DID NOT READ RIGHT.

An editor was sitting in his office one day, when a man entered whose brow was clothed with thunder. Fiercely seizing a chair, he slammed his hat on, the table, hurled his umbrella on she floor, and sat down and scowled. 'Are y° u *be editor ?' he asked ' Yea.' • Can you read writing V ' Of course.' I Read that,' he said thrusting at the editor an envelope with an inscription on it. « b—-— ;' said the editor, trying to spell it. • That's not a *B,' it's an • S,'' said the man* " S,' oh yes, I see. Well it looks like « Sal for Dinner, 1 or' Souls of Sinners,' said the editor. ' No, sir,' replied the man ; nothing of the sort. That amy name—Samuel B runner, 1 knew you oouldn't read. I called to see about that poem of mine you printed the other day, entitled 'The Surcease of Sorrow." I I don't remember it,' said the astonished editor. - .' Of course you doh,t, because it went into the paper under the villainous title of 'Smear case To-morrow,' •A blunder of the printer, I suppose.' 4 Yes, Bir ; and that's what I want to see you about. The way in which the poem was mutilated was simply scandalous. 1 haven't slept a nignt since. It exposed me to derision. People think lam an ass. (The editor coughed.) Let me show you. The* first line when 1 wrots it, read in this way : • Lying by a weeping willow, underneath a gentle slope,' that is beautiful and poetic. Now how did your vile sheet represent it to the public i Lying to a weeping widow, I induce her to elope.' * Weeping widow,' mind you. A widow ! Oh thunder, and lightening, this is too much I Bui look at the fourth versa, Thar's worse yet. ' Oast thy pearls before the swine and lose them in the dirt.' He makes it read in this fashion: • Oast thy pills before sunrise and love them if they don't hurt.' Now is not that a cold-blooded outrage on a gentleman's feelings ?' ' It's very hard, very hard,' said the editor Bympathisiagly. < ' « Then take the fifth verse. In the original manuscript it said, plain as daylight, • Take away the gingling money it is only glittering dross,' In its printed form you made me say : ' Take away the tiagling honey, put some flies in for the boss.' By George 1 I feel like attacking somebody with a club. But, oh I look at the sixth verse, I wrote : ' I'm weary of the tossing of the ocean as it heaves.' When I opened your paper and saw the line transformed into «I m wearing out my trousers till they're open at the knees,' I thought that was going too far I have a right to murder that compositor. Where is he?' • He is just out at present,' said the editor. « Come in to-morrow.' « I will,' said the poet, ' and I will come armed.'