Sorry, the editor, has gone mad, what with the never-ending quest for news. In place of his diary, we offer you this letter from Dan De Quille:

My back is elevated - I'm enraged! I gnash my teeth in fury. I kick things about the cabin. I have been in an awful fix for over a week. If something in the line of news don't transpire shortly, you will hear of some man getting badly whipped.

Jones came rushing into my room this evening. You know how excitable Jones is? I jumped up to meet him. "How are you, Jones?" I asked. "What's up? What's the news?"

"News, n-e-w-s concerning what?" said Jones.

"Concerning anything! Concerning everything! What's happened? What's up?"

"Indeed, Mr. De Quille, I'm sure I don't know of anything-what is up?"

"Confound you, Jones! Blast you! Don't come rushing in here like that and not have any news! You disappoint me, Jones."

"Did I say I had any news?" Jones said.

"No, but you know how you came rushing in here, Jones. I thought you had good news-I thought someone was shot. Oh, Jones, Jones! I forgive you this time, but for heaven's sake be more careful in the future."

In going uptown I see Spudder just ahead. I feel for my revolver; but as I don't find it, I do the next best thing to get rid of him-cross the opposite side of the street-for I detest, abhor, despise and abominate Spudder and his never-ending boasting on his favorite "lead" in the Pewtertinktum mine, which never amounts to a hill of beans.

But Spudder sees me. "Hollo, Dan! Hold on! News! News! Great news!"

I rush across the street again; I could almost hug Spudder. I feel sure there has just been a fight, and six, at least, shot or cut to pieces. I shake hands with Spudder, ask him where he has been, tell him I have been hunting him all over town, and when he opens his mouth to speak, say "Not a word, my friend! Not yet, Mr. Spudder! We must take a little something first!" We take something-Spudder a good deal of it. I lay my hand encouragingly on Spudder's knee.

"Now, my dear Spudder, now for the news!"

"Yes, yes, I wur jist about to tell ye-I know ye'll be delighted Dan-we've struck it richer n-n-ever in er Pewtertinktum! Jist as full of sulferts as-

I kicked the stool from under Spudder, kicked his old "stovepipe" out of the saloon, kicked it halfway down the street and went raging down the road.

If anybody can relieve my agony with any piece of news--and not a word about the darn Pewtertinktum--please send it to me care of greatbasin@earthlink.net..

Sincerely,

Dan De Quille