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Show Oliioaco Xaltox-Jtt'ixxrto.. have, poem here I'd like to know'if you AvilL: print;" said a solemn, sol-emn, ethereal sort of a man: coming into the editorial bungalow of a; Chicago newspaper, recently.. The editor reached under the dfcsk for his. gun,, but saluted; his visitor politely , . ' ; " "Let me see it," hct almost com raanded. . "It's a good one, I think,"' ventured ven-tured the solemn man as he handed it. to him. The editor tQuk. it.and began read- . .;. . ' . "Why,"he blurted out on the firs line, this is Longfellow's psalm of life. "What do you mean by .trying. to palm this off on mef". "Will you print it" urged the visitor.';. vis-itor.';. . - '. "Of. course not. :T)6 you think I'm a blamee fool to print one of the finest poems' in the language' handed in by such a looking apology for a poet as you are. No, a hun- " "Then you refuse to print it?" he said,- taking the poem off the desk and interrupting the editor's flow -of language. " - ': . u most emphatically do, ancV if you don't get' out of1' this in; two minutes min-utes 1,11 throw you out of- the. window..- " -, "Don't db ir,.,r pleaded' the visiter, almost earnestly as he began to back out with considerable haste. "'T want to live long enough to help eat a champagne supper I've won on a bet that there Was an editor in this town .'who didn't know any better than to reject' one of Longfellow's poems.;,; I'nvrfrdm- St.. Lousand you Chrcagov people seem to think you know it all and twice as much more. It was a Chicago literatti as he called himself; that I had the bet with, and maybe you had better come around, and help us in. the sup per. I'll see if he'll send you an invite. in-vite. There's nothing mean about me . I' don't caie if I don't look like I could write the 'Pslam of life.'" Tootle, tootle, .old f el,- - see you later" and the editor got up and staggered stag-gered over to. the window for fresh air as the solemn man slammed the door and1 went down the stairs Detroit Free Press. |