'Punning is a power,' according to somebody, and, like most power, is sadly abused. Take, for illustration, the following specimen of the 'narrative pun:'
The reader knows that BYRON once punned on the word Bullet-in, and was proud of it; distinctly proud, be it remembered. After which comes the following:—
Some years ago it was summer time, and in the office of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, one, as the French say, was preparing the daily paper. Along Third Street streamed Shinners, Bulls, Bears, and Newsboys,—in the sanctum, Editors wrote and clipped,—proof rose up and down in the dumb waiter,—there was the shrill scream of the whistle calling to the foreman far on high,—
Suddenly there was a tremendous run in the front office.
A maddened cow,—an infuriate, delirious, over-driven animal,—breaking loose from the cow-herdly creature who had her in charge,—careered wildly past the Ledger building.
One would have thought that the straw paper on which that sheet was then printed might have tempted her to repose.
It didn't.
Past FORNEY'S paper:—he was proprietor of the Pennsylvanian in those days. Those days!—when he was Warwick, the king-maker, and carried Pennsylvania for Old Buck. Bitter were the changes in aftertimes, and bitterly did Forney give fits where he had before bestowed benefits. On went the cow.
Right smack into the office of the evening paper, then engineered by ALEXANDER CUMMINGS, now held by GIBSON PEACOCK.
Rush! went the cow. Right into the next door—turn to the left, oh, infuriate—charge into the newsboys! By Santa Maria, little DUCKEY is down—ha! Saint Joseph! the beast gains the front office—she faceth streetwards—she jaculates herself outwards—she is gone.