The Daily Phoenix

The following is what Bill Arp says of the election: 'As the poet sed, the agony is over.' Them cards in the sleeve would hav beat any honest band. Bes-i-des, as Thomp. Allan would say, we playd badly. Baltimore Convention, and O'Conor and Lex. Stevens, and a limited supply of votes, has beat us. Well, we still live. I'm not going to bed about it. Old Greeley ain't no kin to me. Grant neither, and thats whats the matter.

I talked for Greeley, and writ for him, and voted for him, but I never did banker after him. It made such an everlasting foss in my family I had like to ran away. You gee, Mrs. Arp wasent reconciled. She was a strait, and when she ain't reconciled, things ain't as placid as a silver lake around my house. I don't mean that times is hot or desperate, but to say the least of it, they are peculiar. A man likes to hav his bread and board secure. Don't ho? So you see, as my wife was a strait, it didn't become me to be very crooked. And I want at home.

She's a good woman, and she'll endure everything, and never grunt nor groan; but she wont compromise worth a cent. I told her I had no pertikler use for Greeley, and that he was a darnd old infatuated bumbug, but that our paper belonged to the great unterryfide, unbeatisfide, transmogrified Democratic party, and must keep in line. She sed some remarks about papers lyin by the day and by the week, and about self-respect and independence and the like, and I grew meek like Moses in a few minutes. The fact is, I'm a meek man. I've laid awake of nights a ruminatin how meek I was.

Mrs. Arp thinks the paper ought to take 'truth' for a motto, and live up to it. I told her it would be a dangerous experiment, but she says it has never been tried yet. If I wasent afeered the little Arps would perish to deth durin the experiment, I would try it.'