[EDITOR'S NOTE: The author of this item is unknown.]
Up to 12 o'clock on Saturday night, "Mark Twain" had not been cowhided. But at half-past 11, Fitz Smythe was "hunting him" around at his favorite bowling alley on Pine street. At a quarter before 12, the ferocious and bloodthirsty proprietor of the Napoleonic moustache and the gorgeously caparisoned charger was "laying" for the unsuspecting and defenceless jokist at the Faust Cellar. We would earnestly advise "Mark" to leave town for a week or two. Sage Brush Joe would like to see him.
[transcribed from microfilm]
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