"SPIRIT OF THE TENNESSEE PRESS
"The editors of the _Semi-Weekly Earthquake_ evidently labor
under a misapprehension with regard to the Ballyhack railroad. It
is not the object of the company to leave Buzzardville off to one
side. On the contrary, they consider it one of the most important
points along the line, and consequently can have no desire to
slight it. The gentlemen of the _Earthquake_ will, of course,
take pleasure in making the correction.
"John W. Blossom, Esq., the able editor of the Higginsville
_Thunderbolt and Battle-Cry of Freedom_, arrived in the city
yesterday. He is stopping at the Van Buren House.
"We observe that our contemporary of the Mud Springs _Morning
Howl_ has fallen into the error of supposing that the election of
Van Werter is not an established fact, but he will have
discovered his mistake before this reminder reaches him, no
doubt. He was doubtless misled by incomplete election returns.
"It is pleasant to note that the city of Blathersville is
endeavoring to contract with some New York gentlemen to pave its
wellnigh impassable streets with the Nicholson pavement. The
_Daily Hurrah_ urges the measure with ability, and seems
confident of ultimate success."
I passed my manuscript over to the chief editor for acceptance,
alteration, or destruction. He glanced at it and his face clouded.
He ran his eye down the pages, and his countenance grew portentous.
It was easy to see that something was wrong. Presently he sprang up
and said:
"Thunder and lightning! Do you suppose I am going to speak of
those cattle that way? Do you suppose my subscribers are going to
stand such gruel as that? Give me the pen!"
I never saw a pen scrape and scratch its way so viciously, or
plough through another man's verbs and adjectives so relentlessly.
While he was in the midst of his work, somebody shot at him through
the open window, and marred the symmetry of my ear.
"Ah," said he, "that is that scoundrel Smith, of the _Moral
Volcano_--he was due yesterday." And he snatched a navy revolver
from his belt and fired. Smith dropped, shot in the thigh. The shot
spoiled Smith's aim, who was just taking a second chance, and he
crippled a stranger. It was me. Merely a finger shot off.
Then the chief editor went on with his erasures and
interlineations. Just as he finished them a hand-grenade came down
the stove-pipe, and the explosion shivered the stove into a
thousand fragments. However, it did no further damage, except that
a vagrant piece knocked a couple of my teeth out.
"That stove is utterly ruined," said the chief editor.