I did not take temporary editorship of an agricultural paper
without misgivings. Neither would a landsman take command of a ship
without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary
an object. The regular editor of the paper was going off for a
holiday, and I accepted the terms he offered, and took his place.
The sensation of being at work again was luxurious, and I wrought
all the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I
waited a day with some solicitude to see whether my effort was
going to attract any notice. As I left the office, towards sundown,
a group of men and boys at the foot of the stairs dispersed with
one impulse, and gave me passageway, and I heard one or two of them
say, "That's him!" I was naturally pleased by this incident. The
next morning I found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, and
scattering couples and individuals standing here and there in the
street, and over the way, watching me with interest. The group
separated and fell back as I approached, and I heard a man say,
"Look at his eye!" I pretended not to observe the notice I was
attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was purposing
to write an account of it to my aunt. I went up the short flight of
stairs, and heard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew near
the door, which I opened, and caught a glimpse of two young
rural-looking men, whose faces blanched and lengthened when they
saw me, and then they both plunged through the window with a great
crash. I was surprised.
In about half an hour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a
fine but rather austere face, entered, and sat down at my invitation.
He seemed to have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set
it on the floor, and got out of it a red silk handkerchief and a copy
of our paper.
He put the paper on his lap, and while he polished his spectacles
with his handkerchief, he said, "Are you the new editor?"