GENIUS AND WHISKY.

|I SEE in a recent issue of the _Sun_ a short article clipped from a

Sidney paper, relative to William Henry Harrison, which brings to my

mind fresh recollections of the long ago. I knew William too. I knew him

for a small amount which I wish I had now, to give to suffering Ireland.

He came upon me in the prime of summer time and said he was a newspaper

man. That always gets me. When a man says to me that he is a newspaper

man, and proves it by showing the usual discouraging state of resources

and liabilities, I always come forward with the collateral.

William wanted to go into the mountains and recover his exhausted

nerve-force, and build up his brain-power with our dry, bracing air. He

knew Mr. Foley, who was then working a claim in Last Chance, so he went

out there to tone up his exhausted energies. He went out there, and

after a few weeks a note came in from the man with the historical

cognomen, asking me to send him a gallon of best Old Crow. I went to

my guide book and encyclopoedia and ascertained that this was a kind of

drink. I then purchased the amount and sent it on.

Mr. Foley said that William stayed by the jug till it was dry, and

then he came into town. I met him on the street and asked him how his

intellect seemed after his picnic in the mountains. He said she was all

right now, and he felt just as though he could do the entire staff work

on the New York _Herald_ for two weeks and not sweat a hair. But he

didn't pay for the Old Crow. It slipped his mind. When time hung heavy

on my hands, I used to write William a note and cheerfully dun him for

the amount. I would also ask him how his intellect seemed by this time,

and also make other little jocular remarks. But he has never forwarded

the amount. If the bill had been for pantaloons, or grub, or other

luxuries, I might have excused him, but when I loan a man money for a

staple like whisky. I don't think it's asking too much to hope that in

the flight of time it would be paid back. However, I can't help it now.

It's about time that another bogus journalist should put in an

appearance. I have a few dollars ahead, and I am yearning to lay out the

sum on struggling genius.

Baled Hay: A Drier Book than Walt Whitman's "Leaves o' Grass" · 第 58 / 164 题