this reflection brings us inevitably to another—the exceeding inopportuneness of Von Kempelen’s analysis. If many were prevented from adventuring to California, by the mere apprehension that gold would so materially diminish in value, on account of its plentifulness in the mines there, as to render the speculation of going so far in search of it a doubtful one—what impression will be wrought now, upon the minds of those about to emigrate, and especially upon the minds of those actually in the mineral region, by the announcement of this astounding discovery of Von Kempelen? a discovery which declares, in so many words, that beyond its intrinsic worth for manufacturing purposes, (whatever that worth may be), gold now is, or at least soon will be (for it cannot be supposed that Von Kempelen can long retain his secret) of no greater value than lead, and of far inferior value to silver. It is, [C°: is] indeed, exceedingly difficult to speculate prospectively upon the consequences of the discovery; but one thing may be positively maintained—that the announcement of the discovery six months ago would have had material influence in regard to the settlement of California.
In Europe, as yet, the most noticeable results have been a rise of two hundred per cent. in the price of lead, and nearly twenty-five per cent. in that of silver.
[1st pub.: Flag of Our Union, Apr 14, 1849; copy-text: Works (1850)]
·1368· X-ING A PARAGRAB.
As it is well known that the “wise men” came “from the East,” and as Mr. Touch-and-go Bullet-head came from the East, it ·1369· follows that Mr. Bullet-head was a wise man; and if collateral proof of the matter be needed, here we have it—Mr. B. was an editor. Irascibility was his sole foible; for in fact the obstinacy of which men accused him was anything but his foible, since he justly considered it his forte. It was his strong point—his virtue; and it would have required all the logic of a Brownson to convince him that it was “anything else.”
I have shown that Touch-and-go Bullet-Head was a wise man; and the only occasion on which he did not prove infallible, was when, abandoning that legitimate home for all wise men, the East, he migrated to the city of Alexander-the-Great-o-nopolis, or some place of a similar title, out West.
I must do him the justice to say, however, that when he made up his mind finally to settle in that town, it was under the impression that no newspaper, and consequently no editor, existed in that particular section of the country. In establishing “The Tea-Pot,” he expected to have the field all to himself. I feel confident he never would have dreamed of taking up his residence in Alexander-the-Great-o-nopolis, had he been aware that, in Alexander-the-Great-o-nopolis, there lived a gentleman named John Smith (if I rightly remember), who, for many years, had there quietly grown fat in editing and publishing the “Alexander-the-Great-o-nopolis Gazette.” It was solely, therefore, on account of having been misinformed, that Mr. Bullet-head found himself in Alex———suppose we call it Nopolis, “for short”—but, as he did find himself there, he determined to keep up his character for obst—for firmness, and remain. So remain he did; and he did more; he unpacked his press, type, etc., etc., rented an office exactly opposite to that of the “Gazette,” and, on the third morning after his arrival, issued the first number of “The Alexan”—that is to say, of “The Nopolis Tea-Pot:”—as nearly as I can recollect, this was the name of the new paper.
The leading article, I must admit, was brilliant—not to say severe. It was especially bitter about things in general—and as for the editor of “The Gazette,” he was torn all to pieces in particular. Some of Bullet-head’s remarks were really so fiery that I have always, ·1370· since that time, been forced to look upon John Smith, who is still alive, in the light of a salamander. I cannot pretend to give all the Tea-Pot’s paragraphs verbatim, but one of them run thus:
“Oh, yes!—Oh, we perceive! Oh, no doubt! The editor over the way is a genius—Oh, my! Oh, goodness, gracious!—what is this world coming to? Oh, tempora! Oh, Moses!”
A philippic at once so caustic and so classical, alighted like a bombshell among the hitherto peaceful citizens of Nopolis. Groups of excited individuals gathered at the corners of the streets. Every one awaited, with heartfelt anxiety, the reply of the dignified Smith. Next morning it appeared, as follows:
“We quote from ‘The Tea-Pot’ of yesterday the subjoined paragraph:—‘Oh, yes! Oh, we perceive! Oh, no doubt! Oh, my! Oh, goodness! Oh, tempora! Oh, Moses!’ Why, the fellow is all O! That accounts for his reasoning in a circle, and explains why there is neither beginning nor end to him, nor to anything that he says. We really do not believe the vagabond can write a word that hasn’t an O in it. Wonder if this O-ing is a habit of his? By-the-by, he came away from Down-East in a great hurry. Wonder if he O’s as much there as he does here? ‘O! it is pitiful.’”
The indignation of Mr. Bullet-head at these scandalous insinuations, I shall not attempt to describe. On the eel-skinning principle, however, he did not seem to be so much incensed at the attack upon his integrity as one might have imagined. It was the sneer at his style that drove him to desperation. What!—he, Touch-and-go Bullet-head!—not able to write a word without an O in it! He would soon let the jackanapes see that he was mistaken. Yes! he would let him see how much he was mistaken, the puppy! He, Touch-and-go Bullet-head, of Frogpondium, would let Mr. John Smith perceive that he, Bullet-head, could indite, if it so pleased him, a whole paragraph—ay! a whole article—in which that contemptible vowel should not once—not even once—make its appearance. But no;—that would be yielding a point to the said John Smith. He, Bullet-head, would make no alteration in his style, to suit the caprices of any Mr. Smith in Christendom. ·1371· Perish so vile a thought! The O forever! He would persist in the O. He would be as O-wy as O-wy could be.
Burning with the chivalry of this determination, the great Touch-and-go, in the next “Tea-Pot,” came out merely with this simple but resolute paragraph, in reference to this unhappy affair:
“The editor of the ‘Tea-Pot’ has the honor of advising the editor of ‘The Gazette’ that he, (the ‘Tea-Pot,’) will take an opportunity, in to-morrow morning’s paper, of convincing him, (the ‘Gazette,’) that he, (the ‘Tea-Pot,’) both can and will be his own master, as regards style;—he (the ‘Tea-Pot’) intending to show him, (the ‘Gazette,’) the supreme, and indeed the withering contempt with which the criticism of him, (the ‘Gazette,’) inspires the independent bosom of him, (the ‘Tea-Pot,’) by composing for the especial gratification (?) of him, (the ‘Gazette,’) a leading article, of some extent, in which the beautiful vowel—the emblem of Eternity—yet so offensive to the hyper-exquisite delicacy of him, (the ‘Gazette,’) shall most certainly not be avoided by his (the ‘Gazette’s’) most obedient, humble servant, the ‘Tea-Pot.’ ‘So much for Buckingham!’”
In fulfilment of the awful threat thus darkly intimated rather than decidedly enunciated, the great Bullet-head, turning a deaf ear to all entreaties for “copy,” and simply requesting his foreman to “go to the d———l,” when he (the foreman) assured him (the “Tea-Pot!”) that it was high time to “go to press:” turning a deaf ear to everything, I say, the great Bullet-head sat up until day-break, consuming the midnight oil, and absorbed in the composition of the really unparalleled paragraph, which follows:
“So, ho, John! how now? Told you so, you know. Don’t crow, another time, before you’re out of the woods! Does your mother know you’re out? Oh, no, no!—so go home at once, now, John, to your odious old woods of Concord! Go home to your woods, old owl,—go! You wont? Oh, poh, poh, John, don’t do so! You’ve
