AUTHORS’ MISERIES.
The printer’s boy is sitting in the hall; the editor has written to say that your last contributions are not up to the mark, and that you must be more funny, if you please. Mr. Snip, the tailor, has called again that morning; you have a splitting headache, from a transaction over-night, and as you are writing an exceedingly light and humorous article, your dear Anna-Maria wishes to know how you dare dine at Greenwich, and with whom you dined?
I suppose she found the bill in your coat-pocket. How changed Anna-Maria is from what she was when you married her! and how uncommonly ill-tempered she has grown!
Mr. Tims and a Good-natured Friend.
G.-N. F. Have you read the Macadamiser, Tims?
T. Hem! no. Do people read the Macadamiser?
G.-N. F. He, he! I say, Tims, there’s a most unjustifiable attack upon you in it. Look here. (He kindly takes out the “Macadamiser.”)
T. (reads). “This person is before us again. He is ignorant, vulgar, and a Cockney. He is one of that most contemptible race of men, a professional buffoon. He is,” etc., etc. (Tims reads ad libitum.) Thank you, my dear fellow; it was uncommonly good-natured of you to bring the critique.
