The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1860-04-11
ANEDlTOR's L-TE.

1t does not REQUIRE master mana 10
sketch with fidelity that poor and abused
class known as editors.
AS contemporary remarks, he may
be the Irresponsible" the "foregn," the
''literary," the ''local," tie ''commercial'
in either department he is the subject
of laudation, abuse. trials and triumphs.
He must have ready pen, remarkab
versatility of knowledge, correct judg-
ment, and considerable nerve. If you in
trude upon him you discover him writing,
reading, scissoring. He will talk, but
his pen does hot stop. He spattsrs the
ink; he fumbles over books; he grows
savage in q ''leader," or learned in a re-
view. Politicians try to buy him needy
artists ask favorable notice; inventors
have models to show him. He is address
ed on more subjects than it was ever in
tended single mind should comprehend.
While his journal is called by some intiu-
entail, and valuable, there are others who
bluntly pronounce it scurrious and poor.
Swimming upon floods OF exclteTent,bat-
Ting, chatting, arguing, consenting, exal-
ting his friends, and crushing his foes.
thinking, working is tbs sum and sub
stance of an editors career. AT home,
he writes with wife at his elbow, and his
child upon his knee; Ill the street he
weaves ont those ideas which, in few
hours. will startle the men who now lostIe
and crowd him; in his sanetum he makes
ready thunderbols. moulded with a
pen, but more powerful than any ever
hurled from Jove. 1o delivers lectures;
he is politician; la holds office; he Is
q traveller; he gives verdict upon man
uscripts which are more precious than the
apple of their eye, 10 aspiring authors;
he pleads for tie poor; he snubs she rich
he conci!iatcs, he dofes, he arousss ma
tions; he dethrones kings; he is the
guardian Of liberty, and omnipotent.
Up in garretts, in out-of-way places
sometimes furnished like a parlor, some
times worse than pig penis his sane
tim sancioruw, the ''holy of holes. =
Are you partial to frownsa Doyou wish
to hear a growl? Disregard tue notice OF
editors Room" .'Private," mo Ad-
mittance, and enter the den; you OBJ
serve the contracting brow; you do not
know whether you are saluted or insul-
ted your tongue proposes to speak, and
your legs incline You to run away head
lifts itself; worn pen and linked fingers
point YOU 10 q seat, which it takes you
an instant to reach, but ere you have done
50, the monster has bis C utches 80 deeply
in "a idea that he has forgotten your ex-
i>tonce. There YOU sit; you try to count
the pyramids of newspapers, and wonder
i to be an editor it is necessary to be q
savage. You sac books and maps, but
Won would as soon NEEDLE with the cut
o. bear as anything in which the Wild
animal before you has an interest. Del
egations Of "devils" from the printing
Office, come for copy" and great many
/ things are going or which are strange to
YOU. Osher gentry come in, who glance
contemptuously at yourself. They seat
themselves, and you hear nothing but
scratch, scratch, with gold pens, steel
pens, aud goose quilts; they pull at then
WHISPERS; they clear their throats; they
look up at the ceiling; they help each 9th
er when their ideas run aground; they
write and re,write; they expunge and
amend; they become cheerful If their pro-
ductious please them, and crusty if they
do not. Now remember that this mental
toll must COON by day and night, when
the head is dizzy by sickness aud the heart
by sadness, that il entails study, research
and thought; that the themes are suggoo
ted and discussed within the hour; ano
you will understand why you are not wan
ted in an editors sanctum. Presently
however, he will talk to You; he will ca
short your long speeches; lie will bring
YOU at once to ycur business; he will dis
patch 1t, and you will at once discover
that necessity, if not inclination, urges
him to resume his pen. In summer
wlIaa the flowers are so tempting, at mid
n'gTt, with the glare of. the artificial iigh
pouring upon him, there he is, tolline
Slave. He writes Of your pleasures, he
adds to your joys. Do you ever think O
his exhausted brain, his fading life, biz
premature death? Literature was, per
haps, passion of his boyhood, and he
has pursued the wicked phantom from
year to year, finding, in the qualification
ola refned taste, some small reward fol
his painful infatuation. = Richmond
Wing.