Awl gathered around the bursted angell; but lo! in a minnitt’s space, her wings agin was plumed, and evry feather waz in its lawful plase; and on she fled laffing like wine thru its buteous blushes.
I had saw enuff—more happyness than belonged tew me—and az i sloly wended back tew mi home at the tavern i felt—good.—
WRITERS AT SHORT RANGE.
Dear Mr. —— —— ——: Your letter to me this morning for more copy haz given birth to the follering home made refleckshuns upon thoze short skribblers, who, like miself, infest the virtewous press.
It may look like an eazy task tew thoze who never tried it, tew write a half a collum ov comik essa each week, and it iz an eazy task to thoze who never tried it, but to thoze who hav tried it, and who hav even suckceeded but a few inches, it iz a good deal like lifting things that are tied down.
In the first place a comik essa must hav a short back, be sharp on the withers, not tew long legged, kind in all harness, hard to skare, and able to show 2:40 to a road waggon.
The power ov a comik essa resides in its idea, either original or admirably stolen, not in its words, strung out lazily like a snake sunning himself in the sand.
It iz no place for yure short essayer to hide among the debris ov abstrakted thoughts, or skulk behind a flame colored paragraff, or doze in recital upon an ebb tide, or hammer out an iron proposishun into points more or less dull, or quote latin, or bad french, but he must be az short az a nuzeboy’s prayer, az sudden az the end ov a rope, az quick az a sneeze, and az brilliant in hiz busts az a ski rocket.
Awl real strength iz short; thinks are broke, or histed with a jerk; comik essayers must ram pages into paragraffs; wit, or humor, iz something like ginger pop—thar is about as mutch in the pop, that is interesting, as thare iz in the ginger.
Theze short essays are like buckwheat slap-jacks; evryboddy seems tew like them hot, and tew git them hot iz jest where the little joker cums in.