Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1883 — Why He Wept. [ARTICLE]

Why He Wept.

Tn justice to ourselves we desire to state that the Cheyenne Sun has vilified us and placed us in a false position before the public. It has stated that while at Rock Creek station we were taken for a peanutter and otherwise ill-treated at the railroad eating-corral and omelet emporium, and that in consequence of such treatment we shed great scalding tears as large as watermelons. This is not true. We did shed the tears as above set forth, but not because of ill-treatment on the part of the eating-house proprietor. It was the presence of death that broke our heart and opened the fountains of our great deep, so to speak. When we poured the glucose sirup on our pancakes the stiff and cold remains of a large beetle and two cunning little cockroaches fell out into our plate, and lay there hushed in an eternal repose. Death to us is all-powerful. The king of terrors is to us the mighty sovereign before whom we must all bow, from the mighty Emperor down to the meanest slave—from the railroad superintendent, riding in his special car, down to the humblest humorist—all alike must some day curl up and die. This saddens us at all times, but more part cularly when death, with his remorseless lawn-mower, has gathered in the young and innocent. This was the case where two little' twin cockroaches, whose lives had been unspotted, and whose years had been unclouded by wrong and selfishness, were called upon to meet death together. In the stillness of the night, when others slept, these little affectionate twins crept into the glucose sirup and died. We hope no one will misrepresent this matter. We did weep and are not ashamed to om it. We sat there and sobbed until the table-cloth was we for four feet and the venerable ham was floating around in tears. It was not for ourselves, however, that we wept. No unkindness on the part of an eating-house proprietor ever provoked such a tornado of woe. We just weep when we see death and are brought in close contact with it. And we are not the only ones that shed tears. Even the butter wept. Strong as it was, it could not control its emotions. We don’t very often answer a newspaper attack, but when we are accused of weeping till people have to take off their boots and wring out their socks, we want the public to know what it is for.— Laramie Boomerang.