they want to r-read,' he says. 'Ye can all go home,' he says. 'I'll stay
here an' write th' paper mesilf,' he says. 'I'm th' best writer ar-round
here, annyhow, an' I'll give thim something that'll prepare thim f'r
death,' he says.

"An' he did, Hinnissy, he did. 'Twas a gran' paper. They was an article
on sewerage an' wan on prayin' f'r rain, an' another on muni-cipal
ownership iv gas tanks, an' wan to show that they niver was a good
milker ownded be a pro-fane man. They was pomes, too, manny iv thim, an'
fine wans: 'Th' Man with th' Shovel,' 'Th' Man with th' Pick, 'Th' Man
with th' Cash-Raygisther,' 'Th' Man with th' Snow Plow,' 'Th' Man with
th' Bell Punch,' 'Th' Man with th' Skate,' 'Th' Man with No Kick
Comin'.' Fine pothry, th' editor askin' who pushed this here man's
forehead back an' planed down his chin, who made him wear clothes that
didn't fit him and got him a job raisin' egg-plant f'r th' monno-polists
in Topeka at a dollar a day. A man in th' editor's position ought to
know, but he didn't, so he ast in th'pomes. An' th' advertisin',
Hinnissy! I'd be scandalized f'r to go back readin' th' common
advertisin' in th' vile daily press about men's pantings, an'
DoesannyoneknowwhereIcangeta biscuit, an' In th' spring a young man's
fancy lightly turns to Pocohontas plug, not made be th' thrusts. Th'
editor left thim sacrilegious advertisements f'r his venal
contimp'raries. His was pious an' nice: 'Do ye'er smokin' in this
wurruld. Th' Christyan Unity Five-Cint See-gar is made out iv th' finest
grades iv excelsior iver projooced in Kansas!' 'Nebuchednezzar grass
seed, f'r man an' beast.' 'A handful iv meal in a barrel an' a little
ile in a curse. Swedenborgian bran fried in kerosene makes th' best
breakfast dish in th' wurruld.' 'Twus nice to r-read. It made a man feel
as if he was in church--asleep."