Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

the bluster and the bluff of subsidized news papers. Let him appeal to the People, trust the Peo ple, educate the People—AND HE WILL WIN. Me and the 'Printer. In a mournful editorial, week before last, I spoke, between sobs, of the way the printer had been doing me. You will remember how your sympathies broke loose and came tearing across the field to get to me, with offerings of com fort and consolation. The printer had made me allude to General Israel Putnam as “Old Pot” when, as I. declare to high heaven, 1 didn’t go to do it. “Old Put,” was what I meant to say, and what I actually did say. 1 caw-prove by two reliable witnesses that when I opened the June Magazine and saw that 1 had been made to allude to Gen. Putnam as “Old Pot, 1 immediately said things which would suffer by repetition. As a relief to the editorial soul, I wrote “Ty pographical Errors.” You may have read that melancholy piece. If you did, you remember that I instanced the case in which, Gen. Pillow having been referred to as “a battle-scared vet eran,” the shocked editor re-issued his orders for “battle-scarred veteran,” only to find, to his horror, next morning, that the typer made him call Gen. Pillow “a bottle-scarred veteran.” Judge of my stupefaction when I opened the Jeffersonian and read my editorial. Instead ot “bottle-scarred veteran,” the printer had it "bottle-scared veteran”—a very different prop osition, indeed, and something inconceivable as a term descriptive of any brigadier-general whomsoever. Realizing that, in this particular bout be tween me and the printer, I was hopeless ly hors du combat, and otherwise bruised and battered beyond the resources of ordinary balm and balsam, 1 threw up the sponge, the pen, the ink-bottle, the blotter, the paper-weight, and everything else within reach. But it seems that Nemesis has it in for me. Fancy my feelings when I saw that the printer, by a typographical error, had given to my com plimentary write-up of Harvie Jordan's Vienna trip a tone which' might seem unfriendly, to those who are unaware of my admiration for that great man. Speaking of the air of hotel-clerk case and condescension with which Harvie had met the advances of the Emperor of Austria, I describ ed the former as having been as “cool as a dew begemmed cucumber”—a bucolic and poetical simile which I thought beautifully appropriate to the great inter-national agricultural char acter who had learned all about farming while acting as clerk to the Kimball House, Atlanta, Georgia. When I read the editorial in the paper, I found that the printer had got me down again and was pouring sand in my cars—for he had made me describe Harvie Jordan as “a <k\v begummed cucumber” 1 1 never said it. What I did say was compli mentary, appropriate, elegantly appreciative— a neatly turned phrase which made me think of John Temple Graves and wish I could do it oftener. “Dew-begemmed” is just fine; it distinctly belongs to the class of words that arc to be found in the armory, laboratory, vocabulary, lexicon, and so forth, of all true “word paint ers.” As to “dew-begummed”—it is mere anony mous hog wash. No—the printer has got me into trouble and, 1 fear, made me another foe. The article, as it left my desk, was calculated to make Harvie Jordan feel good. His first impulse, upon read ing what I actually did say about his Vienna trip, \ . ould have been to let me have some of that stock in “The Greater Cotton Journal” at par, thus extending to me the privileges of the ground floor. But all that is a mere drcam. WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN. now. Ihe fat is in the fire. To be alluded to in the Jeffersonian as “a dew-begummed cu cumber" is a casus belli, recognized by Vattcl, Grotius, Bynkershoeck, Puffendorf, Knockem down, Dragemout, JI itemergin, and every oth er authority with which I am familiar. Consequently, I will not be at all surprised if I receive a cartel from Harvie Jordan and a hostile note from his friend the Emperor Jo seph. You will realize, of course, that the Em peror is involved, as well as Harvie, and that an affront to the one, in this connection, is an offence to the other. Realizing this, you will appreciate the gravity of the crisis which is bearing down upon me—a crisis due altogether to tlie entangling alliance into which 1 have been inveigled by the printer. If you are a friend of mine and ready to take my part in case I am attacked by Harvie and the Emperor, please keep your car cupped, so as to hear my cry of distress when I “holler for help.” P. S. Spinner and grower are still together. The union of the two, brought about by Har vie, shows no signs of coming unglued. Spin ners and growers have become so confiding and fraternal that they just pass cotton bales about for fun and brotherly love. Nobody thinks of higgling, haggling and huckstering over the price. In fact, they sell and buy the cotton first and then talk about the price after wards. Paul Dixon’s Vacation. In the current issue of his paper, The Mis souri World, Paul Dixon announces that he must take a few weeks off for rest and recrea tion, lest he should be unable to continue to work. For eighteen years he has been in the harness, and during that long period of labor his vacation has been but two weeks —and these were eleven years ago. Is it any wonder that Paul should need rest? Does anybody grudge him a vacation? None but those who have, themselves, been through the mill can know what the toil is of conducting a paper which combats the govern mental abuses of the day. To be misunderstood by those whom you seek to benefit, to be hated and persecuted by those whose injustice and oppression you attack, to be misrepresented and vilified, to be neglected or betrayed, to bear the cross while your principles are unpop ular and to be left without recognition or re ward when those principles have been made triumphant—such is the common lot of pioneer reformers. What freed today remembers Lun dy and Lovejoy, Clarkson and Wilberforce? Not one. But they all remember and adore Abraham Lincoln, who was never an original Abolutionist; who owed his change of heart upon that subject to his law-partner, Hern don ; and who never took a step in favor of the negro that be was not driven to take by the stronger men of the Abolition movement. So, today, we see the pioneers who paved the wav for Bryan and Roosevelt neglected. Bryan is marketing a harvest for which he nei ther prepared the soil, nor sowed the seed. He is simply the beneficiary of the toils and the sacrifices of the pioneers. The very propa ganda which outlawed and impoverished ear lier and bidder men. has made Bryan popular and rich. To his fame and profit have been appropriated the final outcome of the labor and '.‘he heroism of the pioneer reformers, from the davs of Peter Cooper down—men who took their lives in their hands, and risked all they had on earth, to preach their message to mankind. Honor, forever, to those brave men? They were hooted and insulted; they were pelted with mud and stones; they were rotten-egged when they rose to speak in public; they were howled down, silenced by brute force and blind hatred; the\ were ostracised, and their children made to feel the cruelty of the war fare being waged against their fathers. Yet they never faltered. Weaklings, time-servers, place-hunters deserted us when the storm came upon us, but the Old Guard was true to the last. Overpowered, beaten for the time, it sullenly retired, firing a volley, from time to time, as the ranks grew thinner, and the night fell. No true-hearted Populist ever went back on his creed! None of the Old Guard was ever ashamed of his Cause, afraid of its enemies, or doubtful of its final victory. We KNEW that we were right! We knew we stood just where Jefferson, were he alive, would have taken his stand. We knew that the gospel which we proclaimed was absolutely essential to the salvation of this Republic. So we marched on, fought on —and when we could no longer march or fight, we rested on our arms waiting for a happier day when we could again go forth, to battle for the good cause. And of all that band of noble, fearless, un selfish men, who was a truer man than Paul Dixon? He cannot be named. Others were more conspicuous, but none more useful, more de voted. Others may have made more of the noise called Fame, but none more steadily, more gallantly, more patiently, more loyally did his duty. \ acation ! —Take it, Paul, for you have earn ed it. And with you as you go, take the “God bless you” of the thousands of the Old Guard, who have known you so long and well, and who love you with all their hearts. Here Noir ! ! ! Hast thou ever done a tiling to extend the circulation and the usefulness of Watson’s Weekly? If not, why not? How can'st thou have the heart to stand idle all the day, thou sluggard, when our subscription books are open and our expense-account stingeth like an adder, and biteth like a hungry horse in the green corn? How canst thou begrude thy neighbor the feast to which thou sittest thyself down, once a week, upon the arrival of the Jeffersonian? Think how inhospitable it is of thee to want it all to thyself. Think how greatly thou wouldst add to thine own pleasure by summon ing a goodly company of congenial spirits and whetted appetites to the banquet. Hast thou thought upon these things? Hast thou rung the dinner-bell? Hast thou made thy immediate neighborhood resound with the tintinnabulation of the merry clapper —arresting the steps of the passers by and showing them which way to come? If rot. why not? Pray, bethink thee of these matters, before the night cometh wherein all honest people, having dined, go to bed and snore themselves into somnolent oblivion. Pass the victuals around. Don’t keep on trying to monopolize a good thing. Tell the neighbors all about it and bid them to the feast. Otherwise, judicious persons will adjudge thee selfish, and thou wilt assuredly suffer. So will wc. "Battle Ship Georgia and Miss Louise Dußose. When the Govenment decided to give the name of our state. Georgia, to one of its most magnificent war-vessels. Miss Katie Louise Dußose. of Athens. Ga., conceived the idea of raising a fund by voluntary contribution, for the purchase of a Silver Service for the use of the new ship. 'Those who have undertaken things of that kind, know their difficulty. So very many de mands are made, almost daily, upon the pock ets of the generous demands charitable, re ligious. social, political, mixed, miscellan s promiscuous, ami missionary- that an quest for contributions to a brand new sition meets with just about the san (Continued on page Nine.) PAGE NINE