I had lived in a clammy
atmosphere of reverence, respect, deference, so long that they
sent a quivery little cold wave through me:
HIGH TIMES IN THE VALLEY
OF HOLINESS!
----
THE WATER-WORKS CORKED!
----
BRER MERLIN WORKS HIS ARTS, BUT GETS
LEFT?
----
But the Boss scores on his first Innings!
----
The Miraculous Well Uncorked amid
awful outbursts of
INFERNAL FIRE AND SMOKE
ATHUNDER!
----
THE BUZZARD-ROOST ASTONISHED!
----
UNPARALLELED REJOIBINGS!
--and so on, and so on. Yes, it was too loud. Once I could have
enjoyed it and seen nothing out of the way about it, but now its
note was discordant. It was good Arkansas journalism, but this
was not Arkansas. Moreover, the next to the last line was calculated
to give offense to the hermits, and perhaps lose us their advertising.
Indeed, there was too lightsome a tone of flippancy all through
the paper. It was plain I had undergone a considerable change
without noticing it. I found myself unpleasantly affected by
pert little irreverencies which would have seemed but proper and
airy graces of speech at an earlier period of my life.
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