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 Bullethead’s remarks were really so fiery that I have always, 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 runs thus: 

’Oh, yes! —­ Oh, we perceive!  Oh, no doubt!  The editor over the way is a genius —­ O, 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 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."’