The Ottawa Free Trader

The gifted local lunatic of the Ottawa FREE TRADER, who mistakes bestial blackguardism for humor, and the vilest vulgarity for wit, made a grave mistake when he dodged an insane asylum to become a local paragrapher. He should have been a sewer cleaner, or the driver of a night scavenger's cart, for then he would have had more and better opportunities to blissfully revel in filth, and to wallow as much as he pleased in the odorous ordure which is so congenial to him.

Powerful fertilizers always stimulate "Korn" immensely.—Streator Gun Boat.

Gifted local lunatic is good. We wish we could return the compliment, but must refrain as we "never could tell a lie." The cathartic Bean (who with the assistance of the licensed idiot of Streator) went into travail and brought forth the above champion specimen of "slang," undoubtedly has now attained the sublime position of a gentlemanly (?) newspaper man. The years of arduous labor at El Paso, which kept him busy in keeping out of a livery stable, together with the strategic movement by which he foisted himself into Dalton's place at Streator, and by which the Monitor lost two thirds of its circulation, have been rewarded in his besmearing his editorial chair in as filthy a manner as he has heretofore nastified the profession with a "statuary form" of work. His article fully demonstrates that he is "pure blooded," and his familiarity with donkey etiquette should place him in good demand among mule raisers as a second-class sire. Sonny, don't worry about the insane asylum or the "odorous ordure," but give your attention to Dalton's list of subscribers, who, rather than have your purgative sheet in their homes, gave you the amount they had paid ahead rather than to be bored by you. Now don't annihilate us any more, bub, for you won't succeed in getting any free prospectus for your blanket out of us. If cheese rinds don't relieve you, try a little gum camphor, as that is an excellent preventive against moths.