Southport telegraph. [volume] (Southport, W.T. [i.e. Kenosha, Wis.]) 1840-1850, 1843-12-26
From the PENNSYLVANIA.

ne vitality oil manis great, remarks
Carlyle, in view Of the labors Of The ready
writer who, as connected with journalism,
compels himself daily tc the production of
a certain quantity eff readable matter, and
continuously drives his quill, with more or
less Of thought and with very little tagging
of spirit, Cor a considerable number OF
years thrashing his straw anew once at
least in the co irse of each twenty-four
hours. SO energetically and with such a
seeming relish for the task, that the essay.
ist turns up his eyes in wonder and repeat
his exclamation that the vitality of man
Is great" And so it is, but there are even
pauses in journalism, when the aforesaid
ready writer with gun in hand, beats the
push IN vain-when. for the instant, Sub.
Jects appear to be exhausted, and when,
with every disposition either to cause the
paper to glow with virtuous wrath, or to be
sarcastically joeular upon offending foes,
no point chances to present itself, TO elici,
the shock and to afford an opportunity to
deserve well Of the republic. His eye : in
fine phrenzy rolling traverses the field in
vain. The pen has frequent emersions in
the s!ardish, but catches no fish, and the
broad page Of fair white paper reposcs on
the desk awaiting the imprint Of all idea,
but doomed TO wait. There is nothing
suggestive in the atmosphere-no particu.
lar item Of morals or politics that calls for
adjustment, and hence, unless the ready
writer keeps some pet sorrow or docile
complaint, in the stable of Lis fancy, to be
groomed and brought out for a trot, when
casual nags are not in the way, moments
will come when he is unable to take ride
at all. Now, one Of these moments is a
pause which waits upon the assembling of
Congress. For the week preceding tina,
event, the world OF journalism day by day
becomes more and more stupid, and the
first Monday and Tuesday in December
are, in the ne wspaper sense, a very climax
of dllness. There is, literally, nothing,
nothing TO say. There is, in fact. a gem
eral winding up for fresh start-a new
stage is about to be opened, and, should
any one speak, why, it is a marvel,
seignor Benedick, you will still be talking
nobody heeds you;'-no, not even in
your speculations on the probable contents
OF the Presidents Message. so long as the
desperate resource OF the knights of the
quill upon these tedious occasions. There
is marvellous sympathy too, at such pc
RODS, between the journalist and the pub
lie. Through the force Of their inatten-
ton, he is rendered heavier than usual. and
there is no knowing to what depth of gra-
vitating profundity he might no. reach, if
ii were not that the Message come at last.
and that the Congressional campaign is
fully opened, to furnish straw and occu-
patton for his untiring fail. Truly, the
press hath reason to be grateful for these
mercies. Were it no, for candidates, con-
crosses and presidents, it would be sore
affliction at times how TO distress the mind
of the community, and how to pick up
thorns and sticks 10 crackle beneath its
cauldron. December, never reaches US in
the rotation Of time, but that we are struck
with the force Of that phiosophic remark
which first declared the fact tina, the main
purpose Of the world. in all its all its agi-
tations, ,urmoiIs, disasters and revolutions
is simply TO furnish paragraphs for the
newspapers and 10 keep the press apoinp.
Valor may think it, and ambition curl il,
lips in scorn, when this truth is told; bu,
yet, We heroes, statesmen, politicians. what
are you, after all, but grist, grist for the
newspapers.