Doesticks Is Dead

JJlortimer 'JL'bompson, only known 'oeyond bis personal acquaintances as Doesticks, is dead. He took rank, tor a short time, as a first-class humorist. He was an early resident, if not a native o) Ann Arbor, and undertook to get an education at the UniverBity. He had, however, just genius enough to spoi] hira tor steady employment, and nol enough to make him a íixed star in any literary fhmanent. He drifted to De troit, and ultimately to New York, in pursuit of gentleinanly eniployment. Among his acquaintances in the foriner city, was " Bob Toins" - Bob, we think it was, but are not sure as to the pseudonym- - who was a local on the then flourisbing Advertiser, of 'which Ed. Wales wíis pruprietor. When Mort. got to New York, he began to write back to Toins his extravagances, which only serve to show how low the popular taste for wit and humor was at that time. To Tom's little mind tbere never was anythiug half so fuuny as these letters, and he had them printed, as a part of his editorial duties. They wondertully enriohed the local columns, which without them would have been " poor indeed." The tirst piece which fairly struck the public heart, was the description of a visit to Niágara, in which he aptly depicted the various impositions of the place as they appeared to tho jolly visitor, as he rollicked about f rom place to place, refreshing his flagging interest with " a glass of beer," and then " more beer," after wnich he proceeded to take a " glass of beer," and then " another glass of beer," until torpidity ensued. This piece went the roun is of the press, and after that " Doesticks" was in as hvely demand as ever " Danbury" has been. If any of our readers can get hold of his book, which contains a collection of these pieces, we advise them to do it, if for nothing else, to see how little humor it took twenty years ago, to set the world laughing. " Toins" had more elements of pleasure in his employment then thau he ever will again. As the local of the Advertüer he could have his thin lips puckered around a cigar all the time, in some saloon, where he gathered the partioulars of local eveuts; he could speak to " Maggie Hitclu;]]," who occasionally starred it for McFarland ; he could stand in religious awe of old Peter Richings and more especially of Caroline ; and he oould get Doestioks' letters to read in the editorial rooms before they went to press. He was the great gun of the establishment. To 6ee him balance his plug ou his scalp look, and step forth, was a wonderinent. But the transient sale of papers had not then become establisbed ; and though, so far as we know, these letters were entirely gratuitous, the Advertüer realized no profit froni them. Neither daily nor yearly ubscribers could be gathered in by firely scentillations of humor. Of course hev were oopied by the local press and 'ellinto the hands of every one who ared to read Ihem, sooner or later. For some time the Metropolitan press ook no notice of these effusions, evi.ently nothing " good come out of Nazareth." At length, however, the New fork Tribune yielded first, and wheu )oestick's poiularity no longer could e doubted, it reprinted whole columns of his wit, under the heading " The Jreat American Humorist." With such an indorsement he spread out. His ketches were collected into a volume, he purchasers of which were raany ; and we imagine there were few who did not teel, in its possession, soniewhat as one would after purchasing a basket of champaigne, to find the bottles all empty. The evauescence and sparkling uugency had all gone. About this ime Longfellow let forth that streain of warm teacle, " Hiawatha," and Doesticks descended trom the pedestal of an original to become a parodist, and )ubli8hed " Pluribustah," a satirical oniineutary on Spread-Eagle Uncle iamism. Of this work, a young man who was bom since it was written, and read it since tho war, was constrained ;o reniark, that it was " prophetic.'' And it really does seem to foreshadow, the destruction of Pluribustah," or 'Uncle Sam," in his mad contention over " Sambo," and his worhip of the 'Almighty Dollar.' There is one proof, however, that the author's prophetic visión was not clear. He leaves Uucle Sam crushed under a Silver dollar, on which Sambo sits and twangs his banjo in barbarie bliss. Had he shrouded Uncle Sam in a greenback, or National note, none would have disputed hia prophetic power. But " Queer Kuss Philandnr Doosticks, Perfect Brick," attained his full height early. He went up like a rocket, and instead of falling like the stick, stuck fast and smouldered and smoked in the firmament of bis taino. He was a literary orb that burned brilliantly until he was consumed, and then rolled on, a leaden, gray ash-heap, and peace to the ash8 say we. Mortimer Thompson was related numerously in this vicinity, both by parentage and marriage, and to none bul persons of the highest worth and respectability. He was an erratic genius but we know nothing against his mora! character. -