BOUND TO GET IN.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume V, Issue 503, 10 May 1881, Page 2

BOUND TO GET IN.

110 was a consumptive looking young man, with hollow eye, long hair, a chronic Byronic frown, and gloomy tinted finger nails, as it were. In fact, he was so eviilcntly a poet that the editor of this chasto journal scowled as he entered, and let off an internal oath at the fighting editor for always being out when he was most wanted. ♦' I notice," said the bard in a gentlo and conciliatory voice, " that one of our prominent pionaer citizens, Mr Julius J. Juniper, died this morning, and I thought that mebbe you'd like a few appropriate verses referring to the sad event." " Nary verses " said the editor snapping his watch impatiently. "Wouldn't —cr —wouldn't care to throw the lambent glow of poesy around the mystery of the hereafter, then. Don't wish to gild the portals of the tomb with harmonious sympathy and hope, eh ?" ; 'Not a gild," said the editor. "Of course, it—er—tho contribution would be a gratuitous one," explained the sweet singer of 'Frisco, earnestly. "This is our schedule price for poetry," said the pencil nibbler, grimly. " I observe that the ■ rain has come at last," remarked the poet, after an awkward silence. Doesn't it strike you that a few graceful stanzas beginning :— Hail ! angel teara of pity shed Upon the thirsting earth , would form a leading- attraction for your weekly edition ?" '*'Fraid not." ejaculated the abstracted shear-siiuver. " How would a little religious poetry go with your readers during the present revival ?" suggested the discouraged young man. 'VUc, editor shook his head. The visitor !**.'■■ t> * H (>,-p iriuy sigh. " i'c:; .}i. !-',) ; i!i;lliin.'.;- in or , * lively would b";;ei h;!' the i - \ ,nt, , Wind would yen s;-v to •■ iitiiuir ■.-■(!.! incident, in verse,

"1 should say 'Good morning,'" returned the callous crusher of genius, significantly. " Very well, then," said the young man, in so heart-broken and sepulchral a tone that even the dramatic editor looked round. ,( Do you see this manuscript ?" and he pinned a paper to the lapel of his coat. •• It is the last note of the dying swan—a poem entitled 'The Nightingale's farewell to Earth,' by Tennyson Frlgget. It will be found on my drifting corpse to night. There are four copies—one for each of the dailies." I am bound to get in somehow. Farewell! Farewelll" and, bursting into teais, the wretched youth hastily left the office and walked rapidly toward the bay.

Here is a novelty taken from the advertising columns of the New York Clipper : " Adam Forepaugh, proprietor of the Largest Show in the World, desires to secure the services for thirty weeks the coming spring and summer of the Handeomest Woman Living. To that end he offers a premium of £2000, payable in jpro rata weekly instalments, to the lady contestant who shall be adjudged the most beautiful candidate. All applicants must forward photographs and full address, 11 communications strictly confidential. The fortunate lady will be required to appear daily in a great pageant, and, as beauty and not talent h required, good looks a'one will secure the prize. No personal applications or interviews will be granted. No letters answered. No photographs returned."