Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 February 1875 — How Mr. Bogardus Was Convinced. [ARTICLE]

How Mr. Bogardus Was Convinced.

The other day a man weighing near 200 pounds, who announced himself as Mr. Bogardus, of Front street, walked the counting-room ot this paper and said he wanted to see the man who had slandered him. Being asked to explain, he went on to say that he had read frequent allusions in the Free Press to the "Bogardus Kicker,” and that he could kick the man who got up the 41 kicker” fabrications. Everybody was blowing at him, and making sport of him, he said, and he had decided not to stand it any longer. He was directed lo call again, and yesterday he came up-stairs. He had several “ Kicker” allusions cut from various issues of the Free Press, and as he laid them on a table behind which sat a pale-faced young man Mr. Bogardus removed his necktie and collar lind whispered: “ There’s goin’ to be gore in this ’ere room!” "Do you intend to make a personal thing of this?” asked the pale-faced scribe. “ Them’s my purpose!” replied Mr. Bogardus, as he flung his hat into a corner. “ I don’t ride in a kerridge, and I don’t hold offis, but I’m goin’ to take care of my character. When a putty-headed reporter slanders me it means a funeral!” . “ But, my dear sir, no one has slandered you—these items refer to another Bogardus altogether.” “They do, hey!” he whispered, getting out of his codt. “ They certainly do. This Mr. Bogardus lives in Louisville, and his ‘Kicker’ has found its way into almost every newspaper office in this country.” Can’t fool me!” he replied, as he drew his belt another notch tighter. “ But see here. Here is the kicker itself. We ordered it over six months ago, and it has been on duty ever 6ince.” ' “Don’t fool with a Numidian lion!” warned Mr. , Bogardus as he stood in his shirt sleeves. “ What is the kicker lor?” j, " This Bogardus who invented it,” replied the young man, “is a Louisville editor. For the last fifty years every newspaper office has been bored by a set

of good-natured fellows who paw over exchanges, want to get poetry published, and at length feel themselves at home in every room. This Bogardus brought out this Kicker to get rid of such persons.” “ Don’t lie to me 1” said M r - Bogardus, menacingly. “ Ho, sir, I am speaking the solemn truth. We used to have forty or fifty bores around this office, bat all have fled. Bome were lightly kicked and took the hint, while others were kicked to death and the coroner called ii a case of hereditary consumption. The kicker is a great invention, sir, and you ought to feel proud that your name is Bogardus.” “ How does she work?” asked the stranger, looking at the machine. “She kicks, sir—kicks like a mule; that’s why they call it the kicker.” “It’s a blasted lie!” roared Mr. Bogardus; “this ’ere thing is a power press.” “ Please sit down in that chair until 1 show you,” said the young man.” The stranger sat down and steam was turned on. He wore a cynical look for about half a second, but when the kicker fetched him two or three he shouted out; “Lemme up—lemme go!” “ You are now satisfied that this thing is all right, are you?” asked the young man. “ Yes—thunder—gosh oh blazes — stop ’er!” “ And you are sorry that you came up here and wanted to spill my gore?” “ Yes—oh —blast it—yes—slop yes old machine!” “And ever hereafter your conduct toward newspaper men will be characterized by balminess, liberality, charity and respect?” “ Thunder—yes—stop ’er—oh f—let up on me!” “And as soon as released from the toils of the kicker you will resume your raiment and at once ?” But he had fainted. He was taken out, laid on the floor and four policemen were sent for to carry him down stairs and get him into a hospital. Mr. Bogardus revived as they were loading him on to a wagon, but his talk was so incoherent that nothing could be made out but: “ Stop ’er —grashus—my poor mother — lemme up.— Detroit Free Press.