You orter see our imposin stone; it must be orful valewble. Its a grate flat peece of marbel, tattooed, all over, with funny hyroglifficks. I guess its one of the old toombstones wot come from anshunt Troy. Its a wunder the edittur dont sell it to the Smithsoyun institute, sted of using it for layin forms on, its so orful imposin.
A VISIT FROM A DISTINGUSHED ANTY-MONOPERLIST TYPERGRAFFICAL TOREWRIST.--HE EXPOSES A MURDERUS CONSPIRACY.--A THRETEND RESIGNASHUN.
This mornin our offis was onhered by a visit from a typergraffical torewrist, wot in-terduced hisself as John McNamee. He sed he'd just returned from a xtensive visit in the Western States, ware he'd been for sum time, for the benefit of his health. He is one of the most distinguished members of the perlitikel partis, called Anti-Monopolists. I admire a man wot praktices wot he preaches. Now, this Mr. McNamee has never been known to contribute a cent to surportin our grate ralerode mo-noperlists, altho he has travilled all over the United States by rale. Beside that, he wouldn't axcept any accommodashuns short of a green-line sleeper. Wen I arst him y he didn't ware his gold watch-chain and silk hat, like all other pollytishuns, he sed his partie was endevourin to freeze out the big clothin monopolies by wearin their does till they fell off. I notissed his bus-sum swellin with pride, as he spoke of the fruits there labor had brot forth in the failyure of so menney grate clothin furms.
He condersended to thro in sum type, and wen he got thru, him and a cuppel of our printers adjurned down stares to partake of a shampayne lunch. I guess he warn't used to drinkin lite wines, cos he's been sleepin under the paper-cutter all the afternoon, dreemin that he was bein nom-minated for Preserdent on the great anty-monoperlist ticket. Jest before dinner the edittur told me to tell the make-up man to kill Lawrence Rickard. Now, his store is ware my pa buys all his groseries, and his wife and ma's orful good chums, and b'long to the same sewin' sircle. Mr. Rickard alwus treeted me rite, and I didn't like to see a cupple of bludthursty villanes kill him without givin' him tim to say his prayers, so I called inter his store and told him he'd better skip out or lay lo, cos the edittur was orful mad at him, and had ordered a nuther feller to kill him. He sed he'd fix 'em. So rite after dinner a cupple of perlice cum up to the offis and arrested Mr. Gilley and the make-up man for conspiracy to murder, and they had to xplane it, and pay all the costs.