|In our hero's peregrinations he wandered into the Sucker state, the
country of vast projected rail roads, good corndodger, splendid banking
houses, and poor currency, and during his progress therein he earned and
hoarded about one hundred and fifty bona fide dollars. With this store
of wealth jingling in his pockets, he entered the town of B--------; he
did not come now as the needy adventurer, but as one holding one hundred
and fifty considerations entitling him to respect. The world had taken a
wider spread to his eye, and assumed new features, or rather he began to
see with a clearer vision, for the common order of society appeared
now, as plain as daylight, to have most villainous faces, and the
respectability of wealth was as apparent as moonshine--he could now
easily assign a reason for the deference paid to high station--in short,
he had arrived at a state of feeling highly becoming the possessor
of increasing wealth. Addressing the innkeeper of the town, who was
a member of one of the first families, with an air of consequence, he
demanded a whole room for his accommodation, when heretofore the third
chance in a bed would have been considered a luxury, oriental in its
character, and a blessing befitting a “three tailed bashaw.” The little
town was an important one, as all sucker towns are, yet the arrival of
our hero was enough to create a sensation from its one extremity to
the other. An acquaintance with the innkeeper soon gained him an
introduction to the member of the legislature from that district, and
this opening soon made him intimate with the town. Many efforts were
made by the citizens to “draw him out,” and learn his business, but John
kept dark. “He's a close fellar,” said a sucker citizen, “but I
reckon, arter all, his business is pole-ticks.” These and sundry other
“ambiguous givings out,” assured our hero that he was a subject of
general interest. “What is his politics?” was a question of import, duly
discussed in the leading political circles; and “was he married?”--and,
“who'd get him, if he wasn't?” was equally an absorbing matter of
interest among the ladies; indeed, an animated discussion as to his
preference had already caused a coolness between several pairs of
devoted female friends. It was said that the pert Miss A--, the
storekeeper's daughter, had absolutely walked down the principal street
of B------, right before our hero, swinging the skirt of her frock in
a most enticing manner. Such a bold and forced movement to take him by
surprise, before any other maid could get a chance, was declared, at a
tea and gossip party, to be most “tolerable and not to be endured.” At
length his object was made known--he inquired of the legislative member,
if that was a good point to establish a paper, and as soon as his
surprise would permit, the member declared it to be an immense place,
indeed, an enormous location, and more than that, the material for an
establishment was in the town, had been in operation, and all it wanted
was an editor to conduct the paper. John signified his ability and
willingness, and the intelligence spread through the town like a prairie
fire, and some pretty noses turned up as their owners exclaimed--“Why, I
swow, he's only a printer, after all!”
The member for the district, along, lanky, cadaverous lawyer, who was
death on a speech, powerful in chewing tobacco, and some at a whisky
drinking, was part owner of the printing concern, and having an opponent
in the district, who had started a paper in the lower town, on the
river, to oppose him, he was most anxious to get the press going; so,
assuring John he could have it at his own terms, and one hundred and
fifty subscribers to commence with, which must of course swell to
a thousand, they settled the matter, and proceeded to examine the
establishment. It was at length agreed that our hero should give one
hundred and twenty-five dollars of his one hundred and fifty, in cash,
and his note for four hundred and fifty dollars more, payable at the
end of a year, besides fifty dollars rent for the office, which also
belonged to the lawyer. A meeting of the first citizens of the town
was held on the ensuing evening, to which John Earl, Esq., was
formally introduced as the new editor of the B-------- Eagle, and the
re-commencement of the paper duly discussed.
“You've hearn tell of the bank and tariff questions?” inquired a leading
constituent and subscriber.
John answered “yes,” he was somewhat acquainted with them.
“Well, hoss, we 'spect you to be right co-chunk up to the hub on them
thar questions, and to pour it inter the inimy in slasher gaff style.”
John agreed to do his prettiest.
“In the town below us,” continued the constituent, “thar is a fellar of
the inimy who's dead bitter agin us and our town, so you must gin him
scissors! Rile him up, and sot his liver workin', 'cause the skunk is
injurin' our location. Advartis' our doins' in gineral, sich as we got
to sell, and throw yourself wide on the literary fixins and poetry,
for the galls--and, Mister Earl, ef you ony do this genteely, and with
spirit, the whole town will take the paper! Don't forgit to gin the town
below particular saltpetre.”
John gave them to understand that if his subscribers wished it, he would
not only cut up the editor, but throw the lower town into a series of
fits which would cause its utter dissolution. All being duly settled,
our hero retired to his room to dream of future greatness. Already did
he behold sheets filled with editorial tact and talent--already was
his name inscribed upon the roll with illustrious editorial
contemporaries--Ritchie, Pleasants, Blair, Gales, Chandler, Prentice and
Neal, those great names of the tripod tribe already numbered him on
their list, and he fancied “his name grown great in mouths of wisest
censure,” while his pockets were correspondingly corpulent with the
reward for such ability. Poor fellow, could he have drawn aside the
curtain, and beheld the days of toil, the struggles to procure ink and
paper, the labor of writing editorials, and the labor of setting them
up, working them off at press, pasting up the mail, and the lack of
reward which repaid this drudgery, he would have kicked ambition out of
his company, and clutched his little hoard like a vice.
The town of B-------- and the town below, had been rivals ever since
they were first laid out upon a map--the growth of one had always been
the envy of the other, and an improvement in one was sure to be imitated
by the other. The lower town had been most successful in the publication
of a newspaper, for the reason that they paid something to support it,
while the town of B------- suffered for the neglect they manifested
towards the press. The editor below not only abused the religion,
politics, merchandise, and intelligence of B--------, but the beauty of
the women, and the smartness of the babies; he had even gone so far as
to say that B------- women and babies could be known by their heads.
This was an outrage most unpardonable, and John rose in estimation as
their defender against such vandal accusations.
Behold John seated scratching out his first editorial! Ah, ye weavers of
cheap literature, who have watched with aching curiosity the appearance
of your first production--ye writers of small poetry for daily journals,
who have listened so eagerly for praise--ye penny editors who have
successfully tickled the popular ear--ye ruling deities of mammoth
weeklies, what are all your feelings, concentrated into one great throb,
in comparison to the mighty throes of talent waking from her sleep in
the mind of John Earl. It would have shocked the lower town like the
heaving of a volcano, had they but known the shower of expletives our
hero was tracing on the sheet before him. Goths and Vandals, corruption
and spoilsmen, traitors and apostates, vile incendiaries and polluting
vipers, poisonous demagogues, and a host more, bitter as sin, were
showered like hail from his pen, when giving “perticular goss” to the
lower town editor and his abettors.
With the appearance of the first number our hero's consequence began to
rise, the respectable citizens took him cordially by the hand, and their
daughters smiled upon him, while the poorer inhabitants wondered at his
“larnin'.”
“A most excellent first number,” said the lanky member, “a good
quantity of hot shot--just the thing--sew the lower town up--you've got
prodigious talents--immense!”
John bowed to the pleasing flattery.
“Well, hoss,” said the storekeeper constituent and subscriber, “You've
slashed the hide off'er that fellar in the lower town, touched his raw,
and rumpled his feathers--that's the way to give him jessy. I raily
believe you'll git yourself inter the legislatur' afore long, ef you
keep on.”
Our hero listened to these first breathings of fame with a swelling
bosom--there was a chance of his becoming somebody, at last, and labor
became a pleasure when it produced such a yield. At a public meeting
called in the town he was elected secretary, and ventured on the
occasion to make a speech, which was loudly applauded, and in the next
number of the Eagle appeared a glowing description of the proceedings,
with a synopsis of his own speech. This awoke some jealousy in the mind
of the lanky member, who thought John wished to supplant him. As time
progressed the Eagle increased its subscription to two hundred,
its editor grew popular, in debt, and received nothing from his
subscribers--indeed, he soon discovered that pay made up no part of
their patronage, and he began to grow tired of laboring for glory alone.
All this time the war was waging hotter and thicker between the towns
and their editors. At length he of the lower town inserted in his
“Patriotic Herald and Telegraph” the following:
“We are informed, from good authority, that the Buzzard of the Eagle
cannot pay his board bill, and fears are entertained that he will slope
without liquidating the debt!”
This was personal--every body said it was personal--the lanky member
said it must be wiped out with blood--the storekeeper swore that John
must “eat the other fellar's gizzard,” and the ladies of B--------
resolved, at a tea party, that the death of the lower town editor could
alone atone for the many indignities he had heaped upon them, and John
was the very man to offer himself up as a sacrifice. All the subscribers
to the Eagle were interested in the matter, for they would gain in
any event, as how: If the lower town editor was removed, an enemy had
perished; if John fell, a creditor's accounts were closed, so they were
unanimous for a duel. The lanky member informed John of the general
opinion of the public as to what he should do, and urged the sending of
a challenge forthwith, which he offered to bear. John intimated that
he must have a day to practise before he sent the missive, and this was
acceded to as prudent, but bowie knives were recommended by his friend
as much the safest and sure means of killing.
Our hero seated himself in the Eagle office that night, where the ghost
of his departed greatness visited his waking thoughts, to laugh at his
present misery. Of his one hundred and fifty dollars, but twenty-five
remained--his clothes were nearly worn out--his board bill unpaid--his
subscriptions and advertisements ditto, and the supply of paper and ink
was insufficient for another issue, besides a duel on hand with another
poor devil of an editor, and the whole town thirsting for the bloody
transaction. A thought flashed upon his brain--he would go see
his antagonist. No sooner was the idea conceived than he put it in
execution. Gathering up his remaining twenty-five dollars he set off in
the night for the lower town, where he arrived about daylight. After a
hasty breakfast at the inn, he entered the “Herald office,” and seating
himself upon the only chair in the establishment, inquired for the
editor. A little pale man, engaged at case, lay down his composing stick
and advanced, expecting a new subscriber, but started to run as soon
as he was informed that the editor of the “Eagle” was before him. John
stopped his egress and made him sit down while he talked to him. A
conversation brought on mutual apologies, and he found his antagonist
as great a sufferer as himself--the mere hack of county politicians, who
had been lured by the same phantom--greatness, until he had worn himself
to a corresponding shadow, chasing the vision. The two typo editors
shook hands in friendship, and our hero departed homeward.
On John's arrival he encountered the member, who urged the immediate
despatch of the challenge, which John refused, and to his refusal
added some words of contempt for the citizens of B--------, and their
representative in particular. This aroused the member, who declared that
cowardice had driven him over to the enemy. To prove the falsehood of
this assertion, John knocked the member down, and kicked his honor must
indignantly. The editor of the Eagle was well aware, that after this
outbreak he must “break for tall timber,” so cooking a smash dish
of _pi_ in his office, he bequeathed the feast to his successor, and
leaving his subscription list, and interest in the concern, to pay his
debts, he beat a hasty retreat. As he hurried through the woods skirting
the river, the welcome puff of a steamer saluted his ear, and waving his
handkerchief as a signal, she stopped, landed a boat, and took him on
board.
Farewell to B--------, its dreams of greatness had faded to mist, and
instead of growing honor, emolument, and renown, it had yielded naught
but the fruit of bitterness, accompanied with toil and care, the end of
which was a roll back to the bottom of the hill he had fancied
already climbed. The great of earth will smile at his troubles,
--happy for him that his disposition would only permit them to cause
a momentary sadness. As the steamer receded from the scene of his
late vexation and care, he began to rejoice in his freedom, and in a
light-hearted mood, paced her deck, an untrammelled candidate for new
fortune. Bright dreams of the future came again, and what a blessing it
is that the lonely adventurer in this world is permitted to dream, for
with a vivid imagination he may revel in joys which waking reality can
never equal.
Let us return a moment to B--------. All there, as may be supposed, was
a scene of confusion, indignation, and horror, at the outrage inflicted
upon the member--he had absolutely been _kicked!_ A warrant was issued
for John, and then it was discovered he had sloped--more indignation!
The editor of the lower town still lived, and the member had been
kicked--horror! The office of the Eagle was in pi and its editor non
est, which means nowhere--terrible excitement! Here was capital for the
lower town editor, and didn't he use it--to use a classical expression
he lit upon the upper town and its member “like a thousand of brick!”
He charged them with starving their editor, charged their editor with
cowardice, charged the member with tamely submitting to be kicked by the
aforesaid cowardly editor, and wound up by asserting that the town
of B-------- produced nothing but pusillanimous men, ugly women, and
pugnosed babies! The glory of B--------, departed while the lower town
swelled into vast importance, and its editor received a present of
two new shirts from the ladies of his section, besides three
spirited subscribers paid him one dollar each, of their four years
subscription--a stretch of liberality so astounding, that to this day
the event forms one of the most interesting legends of the Sucker state.