This is all, but I writ at the time a epitaff which I think is short, and would do to go over his grave:
Here lies the body of James Hambrick
Who was accidentally shot
On the banks of the Peacus river
By a young man.
He was accidentally shot with one of the large sized Colt’s revolvers with no stopper for the cock to rest on it was one of the old fashion kind brass mounted and of such is the kingdom of Heaven.
GEORGE W. PECK.
A common-sized-mustache-and-goatee young man is George W. Peck, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He is rather a handsome chap, and just after he has left the barber’s chair he looks for all the world like a military officer. However, he looks like a common citizen when Saturday night comes around, and he has not been shaved for several days. Peck has attained quite a reputation as a humorist, through the columns of his paper, Peck’s Sun. Though only established, as a weekly journal with a humorous foundation, something over two years, the Sun has already a circulation of twenty thousand copies, and is rapidly increasing.
George W. Peck is a ready writer, and takes more to the narrative style than paragraphing. His paper is well liked among his fellow humorists, and is widely quoted. Peck is still a comparatively young man, and is “fair, fat, and thirty.” He is one of the few newspaper men who are bashful by nature, as the following letter plainly shows: