Humorous stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Blathersville wants a Nicholson pavement--it wants a jail and a
poor-house more. The idea of a pavement in a one-horse town
composed of two gin-mills, a blacksmith-shop, and that
mustard-plaster of a newspaper, the _Daily Hurrah_! The crawling
insect, Buckner, who edits the _Hurrah_, is braying about this
business with his customary imbecility, and imagining that he is
talking sense."
"Now _that_ is the way to write--peppery and to the point.
Mush-and-milk journalism gives me the fan-tods."
About this time a brick came through the window with a splintering
crash, and gave me a considerable of a jolt in the back. I moved
out of range--I began to feel in the way.
The chief said: "That was the Colonel, likely. I've been expecting
him for two days. He will be up now right away."
He was correct. The Colonel appeared in the door a moment
afterwards with a dragoon revolver in his hand.
He said: "Sir, have I the honor of addressing the poltroon who
edits this mangy sheet?"
"You have. Be seated, sir. Be careful of the chair, one of its legs
is gone. I believe I have the honor of addressing the putrid liar,
Colonel Blatherskite Tecumseh?"
"Right, sir. I have a little account to settle with you. If you are
at leisure we will begin."
"I have an article on the 'Encouraging Progress of Moral and
Intellectual Development in America' to finish, but there is no
hurry. Begin."
Both pistols rang out their fierce clamor at the same instant. The
chief lost a lock of his hair, and the Colonel's bullet ended its
career in the fleshy part of my thigh. The Colonel's left shoulder
was clipped a little. They fired again. Both missed their men this
time, but I got my share, a shot in the arm. At the third fire both
gentlemen were wounded slightly, and I had a knuckle chipped. I
then said I believed I would go out and take a walk, as this was a
private matter, and I had a delicacy about participating in it
further. But both gentlemen begged me to keep my seat, and assured
me that I was not in the way.
They then talked about the elections and the crops while they
reloaded, and I fell to tying up my wounds. But presently they
opened fire again with animation, and every shot took effect--but
it is proper to remark that five out of the six fell to my share.
The sixth one mortally wounded the Colonel, who remarked, with fine
humor, that he would have to say good-morning now, as he had
business up-town. He then inquired the way to the undertaker's and
left.
The chief turned to me and said: "I am expecting company to dinner,
and shall have to get ready. It will be a favor to me if you will
read proof and attend to the customers."
I winced a little at the idea of attending to the customers, but I
was too bewildered by the fusillade that was still ringing in my
ears to think of anything to say.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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