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 his 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.