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y, by way of preface; "I described everything in full, in as many words as I could think up; it's mighty filling, and it'll please the public, too; it gives 'em a lot more information than they us'ally git. I reckon there's two sticks of jest them extry words alone." "Go on," said the foreman, rather ominously. Ross began to read, a matter necessitating a puckered brow and at times an amount of hesitancy and ruminating, as his results had already cooled a little, and he found his hand difficult to decipher. "Here's the first," he said: "'The large and handsome, fawn-colored, two years and one-half year old Jersey of Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire----'" The foreman interrupted him: "Every reader of the 'Herald' will be glad to know that Jersey's age and color! But go on." "'--Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire,'" pursued his assistant, with some discomfiture, "'--Esquire, our popular and well-dressed fellow-citizen----'" "You're right; Bib Jones is a heavy swell," said Parker in a breaking voice. "'--Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his pasture-lot to the other far end of it.'" "'His!'" exclaimed Parker. "'_His_ pasture-lot?' The Jersey's?" "No," returned the other, meekly, "Bib Jones's." "Oh," said Parker. "Is that the end of that item? It is! You want to get out of Plattville, my friend; it's too small for you; you go to Rouen and you'll be city editor of the 'Journal' inside of a week. Let's have another." Mr. Schofield looked up blankly; however, he felt that there was enough live, legitimate news in his other items to redeem the somewhat tame quality of the first, and so, after having crossed out several of the extra words which had met so poor a reception, he proceeded: "'Whit Upton's pigs broke out last Wednesday and rooted up a fine patch of garden truck. Hard luck, Whit.' "'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay to his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations, Jee.'" "There's thrilling information!" shouted the foreman. "That'll touch the gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll use it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show her to him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill us. But we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel weaker than I did,
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