The Confessions of a Caricaturist, Vol. 1

MY CARICATURE OF MR. GLADSTONE.
If, in these volumes, I have made some joke at a friend's expense, let that friend take it in the spirit intended, and—I apologise beforehand.
In America apology in journalism is unknown. The exception is the well-known story of the man whose death was published in the obituary column. He rushed into the office of the paper and cried out to the editor:
Look here, sur, what do you mean by this? You have published two columns and a half of my obituary, and here I am as large as life!
The editor looked up and coolly said, Sur, I am vury sorry, I reckon there is a mistake some place, but it kean't be helped. You are killed by the Jersey Eagle , you are to the world buried. We nevur correct anything, and we nevur apologise in Amurrican papers.
That won't do for me, sur. My wife's in tears; my friends are laughing at me; my business will be ruined,—you must apologise.
No, si—ree, an Amurrican editor nevur apologises.
Well, sur, I'll take the law on you right away. I'm off to my attorney.
Wait one minute, sur—just one minute. You are a re-nowned and popular citizen: the Jersey Eagle has killed you—for that I am vury, vury sorry, and to show you my respect I will to-morrow find room for you—in the births column.
Now do not let any editor imagine these pages are my professional obituary,—my autobiography. If by mistake he does, then let him place me immediately in their births column. I am in my forties, and there is quite time for me to prepare and publish two more volumes of my Confessions from my first to my second birth, and many other things, before I am fifty.
London, 1901.