“Well, a pretty day’s work of it I shall make. News, I have nothing—politics, stale, flat, and unprofitable—miscellany, enough of it—miscellany bills payable, and a miscellaneous list of subscribers with tastes as miscellaneous as the tongues of Babel. Ha! Footsteps! Drop the first person singular and don the plural. WE must now play the editor.”
(Enter Devil)—“Copy, sir!”
(Enter A.)—“I missed my paper this morning, sir, I don’t want to take it—”
(Enter B.)—“There is a letter ‘o’ turned upside down in my advertisement this morning, sir! I—I—”
(Enter C.)—“You didn’t notice my new work, my treatise on a flea, this morning, sir! You have no literary taste! Sir—”
(Enter D.)—“Sir, your boy don’t leave my paper, sir—I live in a blind alley; you turn out of —— Street to the right—then take a left-hand turn—then to the right again—then go under an arch—then over a kennel—then jump a ten-foot fence—then enter a door—then climb five pair of stairs—turn fourteen corners—and you can’t miss my door. I want your boy to leave my paper first—it’s only a mile out of his way—if he don’t, I’ll stop—”
(Enter E.)—“Sir, you have abused my friend; the article against Mr. —— as a candidate is intolerable—it is scandalous—I’ll stop my paper—I’ll cane you—I’ll—”
(Enter F.)—“Mr. Editor, you are mealy-mouthed, you lack independence, your remarks upon Mr. ——, the candidate for Congress, are too tame. If you don’t put it on harder I’ll stop my—”
(Enter G.)—“Your remarks upon profane swearing are personal, d——n you, sir, you mean me—before I’ll patronize you longer I’ll see you in ——”
(Enter H.)—“Mr. ——, we are very sorry you do not say more against the growing sin of profanity. Unless you put your veto on it more decidedly, no man of correct moral principles will give you his patronage—I, for one—”