em run the local on the "St. Jo Gazette."

The labors of the day began at half-past eight A.M.,
For the farmers came in early, and I had to tackle them;
And many a noble bit of news I managed to acquire
By those discreet attentions which all farmer-folk admire,
With my daily commentary
On affairs of farm and dairy,
The tone of which anon with subtle pufferies I'd vary,--
Oh, many a peck of apples and of peaches did I get
When I helped 'em run the local on the "St. Jo Gazette."

Dramatic news was scarce, but when a minstrel show was due,
Why, Milton Tootle's opera house was then my rendezvous;
Judge Grubb would give me points about the latest legal case,
And Dr. Runcie let me print his sermons when I'd space;
Of fevers, fractures, humors,
Contusions, fits, and tumors,
Would Dr. Hall or Dr. Baines confirm or nail the rumors;
From Colonel Dawes what railroad news there was I used to get,--
When I helped 'em run the local on the "St. Jo Gazette."

For "personals" the old Pacific House was just the place,--
Pap Abell knew the pedigrees of all the human race;
And when he'd gin up all he had, he'd drop a subtle wink,
And lead the way where one might wet one's whistle with a drink.
Those drinks at the Pacific,
When days were sudorific,
Were what Parisians (pray excuse my French!) would call "magnifique;"
And frequently an invitation to a meal I'd get
When I helped 'em run the local on the "St. Jo Gazette."
And when in rainy weather news was scarce as well as slow,
To Saxton's bank or Hopkins' store for items would I go.
The jokes which Colonel Saxton told were old, but good enough
For local application in lieu of better stuff;
And when the ducks were flying,
Or the fishing well worth trying--
Gosh! but those "sports" at Hopkins' store could beat the world at
lying!
And I--I printed all their yarns, though not without regret,
When I helped 'em run the local on the "St. Jo Gazette."

For squibs political I'd go to Col. Waller Young,
Or Col. James N. Burnes, the "statesman with the silver tongue;"
Should some old pioneer take sick and die, why, then I'd call
On Frank M. Posegate for the "life," and Posegate knew 'em all.
Lon Tullar used to pony
Up descriptions that were tony
Of toilets worn at party, ball, or conversazione;
For the ladies were addicted to the st