1. ESSAYS AND SKETCHES
I.
ABOUT EDITORS.
We hear a great deal, and something
too much about the poverty of editors. It
is common for editors to parade their poverty
and joke about it in their papers. We
see these witticisms almost every day of
our lives. Sometimes the editor does the
“vater vorks business,” as Mr. Samuel
Weller called weeping, and makes pathetic
appeals to his subscribers. Sometimes he
is in earnest when he makes these appeals,
but why “on airth” does he stick to
a business that will not support him decently?
We read of patriotic and lofty-minded
individuals who sacrifice health,
time, money, and perhaps life for the good
of humanity, the Union and that sort of
thing, but we don't
see them very often. We
must say that we could count up all the
lofty patriots in this line that we have ever
seen, during our brief but checquered and
romantic career, in less than half a day.
A man who clings to a wretchedly paying
business, when he can make himself and
others near and dear to him fatter and happier
by doing something else, is about as
near an ass as possible and not hanker
after green grass and corn in the ear. The
truth is, editors as a class are very well fed,
groomed and harnessed. They have some
pains that other folk do not have, and
they also have some privileges which the
community in general can't possess. While
we would not advise the young reader to
“go for an editor,” we assure him he can
do much worse. He mustn't spoil a flourishing
blacksmith or popular victualer in
making an indifferent editor of himself,
however. He must be endowed with some
fancy and imagination to enchain the public
eye. It was Smith, we believe, or some
other man with an odd name, who thought
Shakspeare lacked the requisite fancy and
imagination for a successful editor.
To those persons who can't live by
printing papers we would say, in the language
of the profligate boarder when dunned
for his bill, being told at the same time
by the keeper of the house that he couldn't
board people for nothing, “sell out to
somebody who can.” In other words, fly
from a business which don't remunerate.
But as we intimated before, there is much
gammon in the popular editorial cry of
poverty.
Just now we see a touching paragraph
floating through the papers to the effect
that editors don't live out half their years
—that, poor souls! they wear themselves
out for the benefit of a cold and unappreciating
world. We don't believe it. Gentle
reader, don't swallow it. It is a footlight
trick to work on your feelings. For ourselves,
let us say, that unless we slip up
considerably on our calculations, it will be
a long time before our fellow-citizens will
have the melancholy pleasure of erecting
to our memory a towering monument of
Parian marble on the Public Square.
Items.—They are very “scarce.” Readers
may complain at the lack of local news
in our papers, but where can we get it?
We are in about as bad a fix as the French
leader of the orchestra in a theatre “Out
West” was. He was flourishing his baton
in the most frantic manner—the fiddles
were squeaking—the brass instruments
were braying—the cymbals were clashing,
and the orchestra was making all the noise
it possibly could. But a man in the pit
wasn't satisfied. “Louder! louder! louder!”
he yelled. The French leader dropped his
baton in despair, wiped the perspiration
from his brow, told the orchestra to cease
playing, and violently spoke as follows:—
“The gen'lman may cry loud-AR as much
as he please, but vere we get de wind, by
gar?” A few hours of active study will
show the reader that the comparison is a
good one.
