Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1866-05-26
THE EDITOR OUT OF TOWN.

Diverging from the beaten track OF
journalism, where the editor encounters
vexations unknown to those who read
his paper, it is pleasant to turn aside
into the by-ways unfrequented by the loot
of passion and unpolluted with the airs
of malice. There it is that we breathe
freely. and invoke whatever of temper
we have lost in the battle of the quilts,
to return. There the harsh jargon of
conflicting interests and warning ambi-
tions are unknown. We leave the politi-
cal argument at the laborious desk, the
angry pen on the rack, and the miscel-
laneous scissors down deep in the ex-
change basket. The writing jacket, we
leave, angrily suspended upon nail,
close to the threatening copy hook,
covered with the dust of weeks. Where
fore?
To get away into the country, TO see
what heaven has been doing with the
trees, the hills, the plains, the brooks, the
ravines, the gardens, the fields. One
mile from Court Square the country be-
gins to begin. There, on your left, is a
native grove, loaded with green leaves
and musical with birds-little fairy fut-
terers and flyers, glancing before and
above you like thoughts too bright for
earth and too sweet TO last They never
saw pair of scissors, nor heard the hor-
rible cry Of copy" They do not need
railroads and telegraphs to convey their
their messages On their swift wings
they pierce through space, beating the To-
comotive, and leaving the storm behind
them. Yonder is a garden, all in bloom.
How lovely IS that green summer-house,
walled with vines and rooted with roses
On you go, until particular objects of
beauty begin to be lost in the general
deluge of loneliness. AT frst, you felt
the spirit of poesy stirring within you,
and your lips were quivering out some
fragments OF descriptive poetry But
you are now silent-too full entirely to
speak The vast forests are about you
The green fields spread out before you
Sweet cottages dot the distance, and the
air is loaded with fragrance.
A cottage, empowered in one of the
most lovely of groves, woos you to ter
inmate your pilgrimage for the day. You
go through gate painted as white as
paint can make it, and enter upon
pavement constructed of shellsg9Sordered
with vines, and rose shrubs, and an in
finite variety of beauties 1t conducts
you to cool, vine-clad vestibule A
lady, anoyed in the whitest of white,
greets YOU You invoke all your smiling
resources, and attempt, editor as you
are, and savage as you have been for a
week, to make yourself pleasant If
your best endeayors prove awkward, III
good for you, as you then laugh naturally,
and the lady in white comes to your re-
lief. She has heard of you, read your
articles, mourned over your cares, and
probably prayed for your deliverence
from the horrors Of an editorial life.
Dinnsr--a country dinner-a thing
you have not known since the year |,
suddenly confronts you, Half dozen
girls, hitherto concealed, troop into the
dining-room and bring to climax your
embarrassment Equal to ali emergen-
cies. the lady in white interposes, and
calling the names of these men-killers,
says, calmly and sweetly, Mr.. -, edi-
tor Of the -. There is, upon the cheek
Of each Of these executioners, blush,
about the size of common October tur-
nip. They incline their waterfalls, and
the rustic editor bows his head Time
flies the dinner flies entering his
buggy, the editor flies back TO the city
back to brick and mortar, and .fies The
lady in white says good bye, the girls say
good bye, and, in half derision and half
softness, wave their handkerchiefs as you
whirl down the road, and back to the |
war-like desk, the ferocious pen, the
buried scissors, and the dust-covered |
jacket But you come home with more
humanity in you--less Of the spirit of
strife, and it is your own fault if you
do not ultimately acquire more of the
milk of human kindness