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"MELTON MOWBRAY," Dutch Flat.--This correspondent sends a lot of
doggerel, and says it has been regarded as very good in Dutch Flat. I
give a specimen verse:
The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold;
And the sheen of his spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.**
*
*This piece of pleasantry, published in a San Francisco paper, was
mistaken by the country journals for seriousness, and many and loud
were the denunciations of the ignorance of author and editor, in not
knowing that the lines in question were "written by Byron."
There, that will do. That may be very good Dutch Flat poetry, but it
won't do in the metropolis. It is too smooth and blubbery; it reads like
buttermilk gurgling from a jug. What the people ought to have is
something spirited--something like "Johnny Comes Marching Home." However,
keep on practising, and you may succeed yet. There is genius in you, but
too much blubber.
"ST. CLAIR HIGGINS." Los Angeles.--"My life is a failure; I have
adored, wildly, madly, and she whom I love has turned coldly from me
and shed her affections upon another. What would you advise me to
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