THE TROUBLES OF A POET.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 3, Issue 269, 14 February 1879, Page 2

THE TROUBLES OF A POET.

While Colonel Bangs was sitting in his office one day,- a man, whose brow was clothed in thunder, entered. Fiercely seizing a chair,"he slammed: His hat on the table, hurled Ms umbrella on the floor, and sat down. • . " Are you the editor ?" he asked, "Yes."

" Can you"read writing ?":•;' r "Of course." ' "Read that, then," he'said, thrusting at the colonel •> an envelope with an in-' sumption ori ? it. '■ "B-—-," said the colonel, spell it. ' ' t " That's not a B ; it's an, S," said the man. ■ , " S ; oh, yes; I see ! "Well the words look like « Salt for Dinner,' " Souls of .Sinners,' ". said the "colonel. ; ' " No, sir," replied "the man," nothing of the kind ! ; That's my name, Samuel H. Brunner. I knew yciu couldn't read. I called ,to see you about the poem of mine you printed the other day, on the • Surcease of Sorrow.' " .. ■' .

I don't 'remember it," said the colonel. T ; * V ' : 'v

■' "Of course you don't, because it went into the paper under theHitle of 'Smearcaee To-nroiTOw." , ' ' '• " A-stupid blutiderof the compositjor, I suppose!" 'V--;,■■■■ - : I " Yes, sir ; and that's what I.want; to see you about. The way in which that poem 'was -mutilated .'vtas. simply scandalous. I haven't slept a. night jsince. It exposed mo to derision. People |think me an ass. Let me show you." " Go ahead," said the colonel. • " The first line when I wrote it read in.this way—; Lying by a weeping willow, underneath a gentle slope— ■ ' » ■ is beautiful, poetic, affecting. Now, how did "your vile sheet, present it to the public ?; ' There it isJ Look, at it. Made it'read'this way : ; Lying to a weeping widow, to induce her to elope. Weeping;widow 1 .Mindyou 1-, A widow! 0; thtfnder'and ! lighting* This is too much ! It's enough to set a man crazy? ,, j "I'm sorry," said the colonel, " but-f-' , '*'' 'But look a-here at the fourth verse," said the poet. "That's worse yet. What Tsaid I was':' ■ ■■-■ ■' : ' ; ' -'■''''■■- •■■ ■■>.■■') ;

Cast the pearls before the' swine, and

lose- them in the dirt., I wrote that out clearly and distinctly, in, a p]ain, round hand. Now, what does ypur. compositor do ? Does,he qatch the sense of that beautiful sentimentj?! Does it sink into his soul ?■ , No, sir, He. sets it up in this fashion. Listen :-. } , , ;

- Cart .my ipills before the sunrise, and lose them if they hurt."' * ' V

" Now, isn't that a cold-blooded outrage bn : a man's feelings'? ■' I ? ll leave it to you if it isn't hard ?"" / " It's hardj' that's a fact," said the Colonel. ' 1f "

•' And-tlieii take the! fifth verse. ■ In the original manuscript it said, as plain as daylight : * . ' ' Take the jingling money, itYonly glittering dross. , .'

:A,•mau.vith only,,one eye could have read 4he .words correctly. But your pirate upstairs there—do you know what he did?. ,He made it read : Take, avray the. jeering monkey oh' a ;' ' sorely hob.

By George, I feel like braining him with a fire shovel! I was never so cut up id my life." " It's natural, too," said the Colonel. . " There, for instance, was the sixth verse. I wrote:

I am weary of the tossing of the ocean as it heaves. It's a lovely line,; but imagine ,my horror, and the anguish of my family, when I opened your paper, and saw the lines transformed into :

I am wearing out my trousers till they're open at the knees.

That's a little too much ' That seenis to me like carrying the thing an inch or two too far. I think I have a constitutional right to murder the' compositor,"don't you ?" " I think you have. , " " ' * ' v me,read,you one more verse I wrote : - • *• —~ «- ,_, I_ the flying _eclioes as tlioy roar j '» ; the hills, ■ . ■' '; ; ; ' f ] , And I feel my,soul awaken to the ecstacy tliat thrills. 'Now,-what do you suppose your miserable outcast turned, that into? Why,' into this : ;,.I,smell the frying shoes as they c^oast along the bulls, ' / And I feel my soul awaken to the etcetery that whirls. Gibberish, sir.! Awful gibberish 1 Imust slay the'maii.' Where is he? " ••• ■ " He is out just now," said the Colonel. " Com,e in to-xnorrqw.", ''I will," said thei poet; "and I will come armed ." . Then \he put on his,, hat, •. shouldered his- umbrella, , and off, stairs. . :