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Show Advice to a Poet. A young gentleman gen-tleman whose namo is Joseph scuds :o the New York. Tribune for publication publica-tion lUo Ti'nral iroro tt-l.w.l, tl,n ...ill.... remembers to have wrestled with, tie wishes us (says tho Tribum) to print them arid pay him for them "what wo think them to bo worth." There is nothing unusual about the consignment of broken -hacked stanzas; stan-zas; but in a letter which comes with them the writer tells us that he "docs not know whether to be a farmer or a poet," and our ndvieo is invoked respecting the dilemma. "My minister min-ister says," observes Joseph, "that I have a groat deal of talent, and that it makes the tears come to his eyes to read my poems; but my grandfather oays bo had rather see me hoe potatoes." pota-toes." And then tho confession follows: fol-lows: "It is a groat deal easier for me to write poetry than to hoc potatoes." Of course it is; but winch is tho more respectablo business? Poets just now are as plenty as pcai:hen; but first-class first-class potato diggers, with a real gonitis for -that butjincs, am not so common. There- are prizes to bo won in this department of human energy, and wreaths which may bo economically economi-cally woven of tho topn of tho plant itself. Joseph, the head of your rev erend grandsiro is level. You Hay that lie is "old-fashioned," but so is common sen so, which is nunc- tho worse for its antiquity. Potatoes will always he in request, but poems arc already a drug in tho market, with no prospect of diminished supply and increased demand. Tho pen is mightier than tho sword, wo admit, but tho plowshare heals both. Wherefore, Where-fore, young Joseph, wo hopo that you will follow tho advico of grandpapa, grand-papa, and write- no poems when yuu can find anything better to do. |