If they should checkmate me.
In an early issue a gem of an epigram appeared, and straightway epigrams became the mode—we all affected them. The vogue was hard while it lasted. A dozen times a day I was assured over the wireless telephone (Nature’s) that Bill or Mike or another had a “bird” for the next issue. Here are some of them.
This one was the “first offence.” If you like it, it is mine; but of course if any one is going to get mad about it, then another fellow, one of the dead ones, was its author. Is not its sentiment exquisite?
AN EPITAPH WHICH CANNOT BE USED TOO SOON.
Here lies a judge, whose last words I indite:
“I’ll go to Heaven—I’ll go this very night.”
He died as with himself he yet conversed;
As usual—his decision was reversed.
Another of great beauty and singularly apt. I have a shrewd suspicion that it refers to the same person: