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A Constant Reader.

The overworked scribe of the Mudville Gazette
Sat wondering—moneyless wight—
If his office would ever be cleared of its debt,
With the times so deplorably tight—
When the tread of old leather was heard on the stair,
And a stranger stepped into the room,
Who asked with the « don't let me bother you » air,
Which the bore is so apt to assume—

« How are ye? » The editor rose with a smile
And pleasantly yielded his chair—
Placed the visitor's sadly unbeautiful tile
(Which exhibited symptoms of wear)
On the top of his desk, alongside of his own
(A shocking old plug, by the way),
And then asked in a rather obsequious tone,
« Can we do anything for you to-day? »

« No—I jest called to see ye » —the visitor said,
« I'm a friend to the newspaper man » —
Here he ran a red handkerchief over his head,
And accepted the editor's fan—
« I hev read all the pieces you've writ for your sheet
And they're straight to the p'int, I confess—
That 'ar slap you gin Keyser was sartinly neat—
You're an ornyment, sir, to the press! »

« I am glad you are pleased, » said the writer, « indeed;
But you praise me too highly, by far—
Just select an exchange that you're anxious to read,
And while reading it try this cigar.
By the way, I've a melon laid up for a treat—
I've been keeping it nestled in ice,
It's a beauty, sir, fit for an angel to eat—
Now, perhaps, you will relish a slice? »

Then the stranger rolled up half a dozen or more
Of the choicest exchanges of all—
Helped himself to the fruit, threw the rinds on the floor,
Or flung them at flies on the wall.
He assured his new friend that his « pieces were wrote
In a manner oncommonly able, »
As he wiped his red hands on the editor's coat
That hung at the side of the table.

« By the way, I've neglected to ask you your name, »
Said the scribe as the stranger arose;
« That's a fact, » he replied, « I'm Abimelech Bame,
You have heerd o' that name, I suppose?
I'm livin' out here on the Fiddletown Creek,
Where I own a good house and a lot;
The Gazette gets around to me wunst every week—
I'm the constantest reader you've got! »

« Abimelech Bame, » mused the editor, « B-a-m-e » —
(Here his guest begged a chew of his « twist »)—
« I am sorry to say your mellifluous name
Doesn't happen to honor my list! »
« 'Spose not; » was the answer— « no reason it should,
For you see I jine lots with Bill Prim—
He's a reg'lar subscriber and pays ye in wood,
And I borry the paper o' him! »