An editor's farewell.
--An editor in a neighboring State, having yielded to the pressure of the times, thus delivers his valedictory:
‘
Here's our hand, dear Public.
Farewell! The ‘"Sun,"’ of
Colton and
Beaufort, is eclipsed — gone down behind a bundle of unpaid accounts and shadows too dark to penetrate.
The grease necessary to keep the machinery in running order has ‘"gineout:"’ the ‘"soap,"’ the ‘"tin,"’ the ‘"pewter,"’ have been found wanting.
Our last ‘"Cash Balance"’ displayed a U. S. three cent piece and a very questionable order for a
sewing machine!
We intended to make our last appearance on the public stage in sable costume, and, with elongated visage and faltering tongue, enunciate our demise in a pathetic strain, interspersing the last good-by freely with quotations Shakespearian, Miltonian and Byronial; but, to borrow the sublime language of ‘"
Artemus Ward,"’ ‘"tain no use a talking!"’
Following the sage advice of this great ‘"Moril showman,"’ we shall hold our peace.
Therefore, O indulgent public, you will have to guess how very sorry we are to part with your society; how your fervent charity, your warm friendships, your disinterested efforts to build up our journal, etc., etc., etc.--how these Christian virtues, so freely dispensed, have melted us into tears as salt as ocean and as large as marbles.
No; we'll none of it!
We cannot show disrespect to your feelings by trumpeting your acts of love, for your modesty forbids it.
As we have said, our purpose is not to speak.
Therefore, with throbbing heart, eyes suffused with tears, and quite overcome with emotion — like unto a ‘"star,"’ who has performed his last engagement, and appears before the curtain to give and receive the parting word — we retire, unable to articulate, just able to wave a last farewell, and — and — that's all!
’
