collar to a position where the article which I have taken the trouble to copy above stared him full in the face; "look here, sir, at its licentiousness. Did you write that article, sir? answer me that."

"What! that article? Let's see?" And he hummed over the conspicuous words-" base assassin-alligator -steam boat-goes the whole hog-chastisement-vile tool, cowardly falsehoods-ah! yes, I remember-ha, ha, ha! What! that's the way the wind blows, is it? Yes, sir, I certainly did write that; but, sir, I hope you don't remember these trifles. We editors, you know, are privileged to a little freedom of speech; but bless my soul, sir, I meant no harm. Why, there is not a single human being, I do assure you, sir," laying his hand on his heart, "whom I respect more sincerely than I do you. I always respected you, as every man must who knows you, but-this paragraph was written in a hasty moment. Perhaps I was a little warm; but that's the way we editors do these things; they give spirit to the paper. People always understand them; they mean nothing; but, if you were offended I beg your pardon, and assure you it was unintentional."

Although I did not admire Mr. Jenkins's style of giving spirit to his paper, I could not proceed after such an humble apology, and so we parted.

EDITORIAL EASE.

Tuesday. Read and reviewed three novels, a quarto dictionary, and three octavo volumes of travels; wrote an account of the present state of the world, cut up the legislature and the corporation, and criticised the performances at the two theatres last evening; also the grand oratorio, and Mr. Wiseacre's lectures on ornithology; received and rejected nine communications, and went to a dinner.

Afternoon. Three beautifully bound volumes on my table. Albums! from the three Misses Damper, with a request to hand them over the next morning to Mr. H., then to Mr. W., Mr.J., and indeed nearly all the letters of the alphabet. What would the fair nymphs have said could they have heard the welcome I gave them? What

must be, however, as some learned logician declared, must be; so I sat me down, and endeavored to put my poetical machinery into operation.

"Confound the women !" I muttered, as I dipped my newly mended pen into the inkstand, and with contracted brow prepared to compose something soft and airy. "Confound the women. I wish the whole sex were at the bottom of lake Asphaltites." I wrote-To Miss Clementina J. Damper,

Could those bright eyes whose every glance
Sends blissful raptures through my frame,
Could they but-

A knock at the door introduced to my notice a little person with spectacles and a cane-an imitation gentleman; whom, although arrayed in new attire, you could detect for a vagabond and a quack by a single glance. With a bow, which was evidently intended as a graceful one, he said,

"I presume I have the honor of addressing the editor of the

"I am the editor, sir."

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Then, sir, I appeal to you to enlighten the world upon the subject of my new pectoral, mysterious, revivifying, anti-dyspeptic syrup. It relieves every thing, sir. Consumption, croup, cancer, colds, fever, and liver complaints. It renders the voice clear and sonorous, and is, therefore, extremely beneficial to vocalists and public speakers. It makes the hair grow, and prevents the toothache. I wish you to mention me in your paper; and also publish this certificate, which I assure you is a voluntary thing on the part of the person by whom it was drawn:

"This is to certify that I, John G. Brown, of the state of Missouri, did for many years labor under-''

I cut him short, and having succeeded in sending him about his business, not without difficulty, sat down once more to Miss Damper's album. I had not, however, read further than "blissful raptures," when a man came in with a piece of sponge, about as large as my head. He flung it down upon the table, so that it overset the inkstand on Miss Damper's album, and said,

"Do you see that, sir?"

VOL. II.-6

66

Certainly, sir."

"Well, what do you suppose it is?"

"Why, a piece of sponge.'

"Well, but is it not a very beautiful specimen-soft as satin, and almost as white as snow!"

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It is really a very pretty piece, indeed."

Very well, sir; now I want you to say just so much in your paper. I live five hundred and seventy-nine Barlow street, opposite Patrick Quin's grocery store, and I want you to give me a puff."

As he departed a fellow about six feet high entered, with a large cowhide, and walked gravely up toward my chair. I hastily ran over in my memory all my satirical pieces, for I thought my time had arrived. "Are you the editor of the "I am, sir," said I, boldly.

"Well, Mr. Dickerson desired me to hand you this.” "And pray who is Mr. Dickerson ?"

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Why, he makes gentlemen's fashionable canes, and wants you to give him a lift in your paper. He says he makes the best canes, horse whips, and cowhides in the city."

"What

"Cowhides, fellow!" said a strange voice. do the public care about cowhides? Let me speak. Have I the honor of seeing the editor of the

I nodded assent, perhaps a little impatiently, for I thought there was a pretty fair prospect of the three Misses Damper's albums going home spoiled by one of my worst incipient efforts. The new intruder, with many flourishes, informed me that he was a school

master.

"I, sir," said he, "belong to the new system. I teach on improved principles; so easy and expeditious, that my scholars learn more in one week than by the ordinary method they would be able to acquire in a year. I not only teach them quick and well, but you see I teach them cheap. My plan is to begin at the foundation and proceed upward, on such short, clear, comprehensive, and extraordinary terms, that the natural eye and the understanding are both struck at the same moment, and study becomes an actual delight. You see, Mr. Editor, I've a natural tact. In six lessons I teach drawing ; in six more three or four different kinds of painting, inclu

ding botany; I perfect a boy in English grammar in twelve; and in a fortnight he is completely competent to write the best poetry, and indeed every species of composition; a few more lessons, and he understands elocution, singing, and playing on the piano, guitar, and harp, flute, flageolet, and violoncello; and, by a few familiar lectures, I communicate the art of chirography, so that no one can fail to write a neat, rapid, and beautiful hand. The tyro is instructed in geography by the aid of a machine, wherein the ocean, seas, lakes, &c., &c., are represented by real water; where little mountains are erected, and continents and islands resemble the real world. Now, sir, I have written an editorial article, which I wish you to print as your own, and—”

But I will not longer trouble the reader with my pedagogue, whom I dismissed as soon as I could in decency. I immediately proceeded to finish Miss Damper, when the devil broke in upon my poetic aspirations with the awful cry of copy.

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Copy, Peter! You have enough. Why the critique on the theatres last night takes up two columns." "Yes, sir, but one of the plays was changed, and we thought you'd wish to wait till some other time."

"The deuce-and the literary notice of the quarto dictionary?"

"It's lost, sir. We looked in all the drawers, and it's nowhere to be found."

"And how is the state of the world?"

"Set up, sir, and the men waiting for more." "Mistress sent me for the books, sir," said a little, red headed fellow, with a green baize apron."

"Books? What books? And who is your mistress?" "The albums, sir. Miss Damper sent me for 'em. She's going out of town."

"Pray, sir, what may you want?" said I, to a bald headed, stupid looking fellow, who stood bowing and scraping at some distance, with a bottle in his hand.

"Sir, I'm the man that invented the compound Asiatic mercurial syrup for the growth of the hair. I wish you to say something about me in your paper."

I was prevented from replying by a boy, who came running breathless into the room.

“Well, sir, what now? More mercurial cerate, or

have you come to announce the invention of a plan to keep people in a hurry from getting out of breath?"

"Mr. Hopson, sir, told me to give you this as soon as possible."

Mr. Hopson was one of my most valuable correspondents; he had written an article in which the word "communication" occurred three times in four lines, and, to obviate the tautology, I had taken the great liberty of substituting "information" in the place of one which did not at all interfere with the sense. This note informed me that I had spoiled his article; "he wished the press stopped, and the piece taken out. He would write for me no more. It was my privilege to reject what did not please me-a privilege which no one could dispute-but never to alter."

Before I had finished his epistle another was handed me from a young poet, some of whose verses I had rejected. They were not even fit for an album. The note ran thus:

"SIR-If you refuse my poetry, which has been pronounced by competent judges to be a piece of very superior merit, I should like to know why you publish such stupid trash as you do every week in your silly paper?"

He

This cost me thirty-seven and a half cents postage. "What shall I give the men for copy?" said Peter. My friend Jennings dropped in at this crisis. He is a professional lounger, and an interminable talker. entered puffing a long whiff of blue smoke from his lips, with the air of one who luxuriates in the enjoyment of the real Havana, and as he stretched himself out on three chairs, he exclaimed,

"How d'ye do? What an easy time you editors have. Nothing to do but scribble a little. No responsibilities, no fears, never offend any body, never get offended; who would not be an editor?"

FAMILIAR CHIT-CHAT.

"WHAT a medley lies on my table this morning. Here's a work in sheets-London edition-the only