The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1860-04-26
An Editors Life.

b
sketch with fidelity that poor and abused
class known as Editors As cotcmpo.
aary remarks, he may be the "responsi-
ble,' the "foreign," the Literary the
'local," the commercial in either de-
partment he is the subject of lauda,ion,
abuse, trials and triumphs. lie must
have a ready pens remarkable versataiitv
of knowledge, n correct judgment, and
considerable nerve. If you intiude up
on him, you discover him writing, read
ing, sissoring,. He will talk but his
pen will not stop; he spattcrs the ink !;
he fumbles over books he grows savage
in "review." Politicians try to buy
him needy artists ask his favorable no.
tice, inventors have models to show him
He is addressed on more subjects than it
was ever intended a single mind should
comprehend and while his journal is
called by some ''inAuential, "valuahic.'
etc, there are others who bluntv pro-
nounce it "scurrilousi' aud "poor -
Swimming upon Aoots of excitement,
battling, chatting, arguing, consuming,
cxulting friends. and crushing foes think
ing. working is the sum and substance Of
an Editors career. At home, he writes
with his wife at his elbow and his baby
on his knee in the street,h wcaves out
those ideas which. in few hours, will
startle those men who joStlc and crowd
! him ip his sauctnm he makes ready
! thunderbolts, moulded with pch, but
more powerful than any ever hurled from
Jove. He del verS lectures !; he is poi
itician he holds office; he is a Traveller:
he gives verdict upon manuscripts
which are more precious than the apple
or their eye TO shr aspiring authors he
pleads for the poor; he snubs the rici,;he
conciliates, he de6es, he arouses nations,
he dethroues kings; he is guardian of
liberty, aud omn'potent.
Up in garrets, in out of-way places
sometimes furnished like a rarlor, some
times like u pig penis his sanctum
sanc:orum, the "holy Of holies." Are
you partial to frowns? Disregard the
notices Of Editors room,' "Priva,e,"
"No Admittancc,' and enter the den
you observe the contracting brow you
do not know whether you were sa-
luted or insutcd: your ,cngne proposes
to speak, and your legs incline you to
run away; head lifts itself: worn pen
and linked fingers point you to a scat,
which it takes you an instant to reach,
but ere you have doue So, the monster
has his clutches SO deeply in an idea that
he has forgotten your existence. There
you sit; you try to count the pyramids
Of newspapers, and wonder if to be an
editor it is necess ry to be savage
You see books and maps; but you would
as soon meddle with the cubs Of bear
as anything in which the wild animal
before you has any interest Delegations
of" Devils,' from the printing office
come for "copy," aud great many
things are going on which arc strange to
you. Other gentry come in, who glance
contemporary at yourself They seat
themselves. and You hear nothing but
scratch scratch, with gold pens, steel p,ps
and goose quilts they pull at their whls-
kers they clear their throats they look
up to the ceiling they help each other
when their ideas run aground they
write and re- write; they expunge and
amend they become cheerful if their
productions please them, and crusty if
they do not Now, remember that this
mental toll must 90 on by day
aud by night, when the head is diz-
zy by sickness and the heart by sadness,
that it entails study, research and thought
that the themes are suggested and dis.
cussed within the hour and you will
und rstand why you are no. wanted in an
editors sanctum. Presently, however,
be will talk to you he will cut short
your long speeches ; he will bring you at
once to your business he will dispatch
it and you will once discover that ne
cessity, if not inclination, urges him to
resume his pen. In summer, when the
flowers are so tempting, at midnight, with
the glare Of the artificial light pouring
upon him, there he is to,lng slave -
He writes of you. pleasures. he adds to
your joys. Do you ever think Of his ex-
hausted brain. his fading life; his pre-.
mature death Literature was, perhaps,
the passion Of his boyhood, and he has
pursued the wicked phantom from year
to year, finding in the qualification of
refined taste, some small reward for his
painful infatuation -Rtchmond Wig.
h6- The canita1 Of the State af Tenn