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Updated: May 5, 2025
Thacker," he said, gravely, "I am willing to segregate the somewhat crude expression of your sense of humor from the solicitude that your business investments undoubtedly have conferred upon you. But I must ask you to cease your jibes and derogatory comments upon the South and the Southern people. They, sir, will not be tolerated in the office of The Rose of Dixie for one moment.
Thacker reached for his thick manila envelope and dumped a mass of typewritten manuscript on the editors desk. "Here's some truck," said he, "that I paid cash for, and brought along with me." One by one he folded back the manuscripts and showed their first pages to the colonel.
From our camp we saw a range of hills, bearing between N. 5 degrees W. and N. 10 degrees W.; they were about three miles distant. I called them "Thacker's Range," in acknowledgment of the support I received from Thacker, Esq., of Sidney. April 9. We travelled about nine miles W. by N., and made our latitude 20 degrees 8 minutes 26 seconds.
Thacker, Spink & Co., of Calcutta, which interested me, for both its preface and its contents treated of this matter of over-education. In the preface occurs this paragraph from the Calcutta Review.
"The only doubt remaining in my mind as to the tremendous advantage it would be to us to give it publication in The Rose of Dixie is that I have not yet sufficient information about the author to give his work publicity in our magazine. "I thought you said he is a distinguished man," said Thacker. "He is," replied the colonel, "both in literary and in other more diversified and extraneous fields.
And before you proceed with more of your covert insinuations that I, the editor of this magazine, am not a competent judge of the merits of the matter submitted to its consideration, I beg that you will first present some evidence or proof that you are my superior in any way, shape, or form relative to the question in hand." "Oh, come, Colonel," said Thacker, good-naturedly.
And now here's a write-up with photographs at the ages of four, twelve, twenty-two, and thirty of George B. McClellan. It's a prognostication. He's bound to be elected Mayor of New York. It'll make a big hit all over the country. He " "I beg your pardon," said Colonel Telfair, stiffening in his chair. "What was the name?" "Oh, I see," said Thacker, with half a grin. Yes, he's a son of the General.
The faithfully reproduced atmosphere of Barnesville had almost a literary colour. Occasionally, though not frequently, he encouraged delineation of Jenny and Tom Scott and Thacker and "the boys." He had even inhaled at a distance vague whiffs of Sophronia's waffles. On the morning after the evening spent at Dupont Circle Judge Rutherford frankly buttonholed him in the lobby.
She will be home the day after to-morrow, if you could call again to see her." She flattered herself that she had evaded the difficulty very cleverly, but Miss Thacker rounded on her in unexpected fashion. "Shouldn't dream of asking you my love. Too much respect for your dear mother but wished to appeal to young and generous sarts like self and sisters! Any contribution however small!
"I see," said Thacker. "Next we have two pages of selections from 'Lalla Rookh, by Thomas Moore. Now, what Federal prison did Moore escape from, or what's the name of the F.F.V. family that he carries as a handicap?" "Moore was an Irish poet who died in 1852," said Colonel Telfair, pityingly. "He is a classic.
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