city," or, "Where the thronging crowds were swarming and the great
cathedral rose." Although she had never been beyond Carlow and the
bordering counties in her life, all her poems were of city streets and
bustling multitudes. She was one of those who had been unable to join the
excursion to Rouen when the President was there; but she had listened
avidly to her friends' descriptions of the crowds. Before that time her
muse had been sylvan, speaking of "Flow'rs of May," and hinting at
thoughts that overcame her when she roved the woodlands thro'; but now the
inspiration was become decidedly municipal and urban, evidently reluctant
to depart beyond the retail portions of a metropolis. Her verses
beginning, "O, my native city, bride of Hibbard's winding stream,"--
Hibbard's Creek runs west of Plattville, except in time of drought--"When
thy myriad lights are shining, and thy faces, like a dream, Go flitting
down thy sidewalks when their daily toil is done," were pronounced, at the
time of their publication, the best poem that had ever appeared in the
"Herald."

This unlucky newspaper was a thorn in the side of every patriot of Carlow
County. It was a poor paper; everybody knew it was a poor paper; it was so
poor that everybody admitted it was a poor paper--worse, the neighboring
county of Amo possessed a better paper, the "Amo Gazette." The "Carlow
County Herald" was so everlastingly bad that Plattville people bent their
heads bitterly and admitted even to citizens of Amo that the "Gazette" was
the better paper. The "Herald" was a weekly, issued on Saturday; sometimes
it hung fire over Sunday and appeared Monday evening. In their pride, the
Carlow people supported the "Herald" loyally and long; but finally
subscriptions began to fall off and the "Gazette" gained them. It came to
pass that the "Herald" missed fire altogether for several weeks; then it
came out feebly, two small advertisements occupying the whole of the
fourth page. It was breathing its last. The editor was a clay-colored