The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1871-11-16
800 per oneuna, IN adUanee.
A Doctor Desire. TO Turn Editor.

"Eli Perkins" of the New York Commercial
Adoertiser has received the following letter
from young country physician:
My Dear Ell:
l am sick OF doctoring here in the country.
| want something to do in the eity-some-
thing in the journalistic lline. shoald like
t. become an editor. Is there any bread and
butter in il?
have "dOne the State some service" with
the quill, but thus far the remuneration has
been scanty and insufficient, especially when
viewed in the light of our relations with
"Hungry."
l don't like physic-tbough that have been
successful as a doctor hundred graues in the
cemetery lctU bear l1itRess My mind is sick
OF wandering with my medicine through the
bowels of unfortunate infants. Gentlemen
with unreliable livers have become distasteful
TO me. The process of parturition has even
lost much of its charm.
can't get over my sympathy for the delud
ed creatures whose rash confidence has
brought them to my door. l can't drive of
the chill horror that freezes my very soul as
each pill or powder starts on its darksome
and doubtful journey. !.
The cemetery grows every day less attrac-
tive as familiar names appear more frequent
ly on the monumental marbles-and darkness,
L am free to confess, seldom finds me linger-
ing on my way past its gates.
Ny dreams are of that unsatisfactory kind
which visited the slumbers OF Charles In, OF
bessed memory. Therefore, because OF these
things, have determined to cut physic and
become an editor.
l seldom hear from you-lately not at all.
You may not be alive. If not, accept my
apologies for addressing you with such free
dom. You would make Jolly sort OF ghost;
and, as | never, TO my knowledge, gave you
any physic, should meet you without "com-
junction" but would enjoy a spiritual mani
festation OF your presence enly less than your
appearance in the flesh.
What is your advice?
Your old friend, GEORGE -.
ELI PERKINss ADVICE.
My Dear George:
DO not take the rash step! Ify your consci-
ence troubles you as you look upon the grave
ward where slumber the many peaceful victims
of misplaced conference.-the laudanum,
but don't think of becoming au editor.
The world, at least, thinks You are an hon.
est man now, but become an editor aud they
will know you are not.
Yours is not the only dishonest profession.
1 know you have to deceive people, but,
George, every one is professionally dishonest.
Your friend, the lawyer, may be good clti-
zen, good patriot, and good Christian; but
he wiU defend a criminal. Now, you would
not do that; you would give him broken doses
OF what-you callit, and no one would know
| what killed him. The diplomat will say he is
| going when he is coming. Yes, he will lie
| too. The tradesmen will tell you, with a
blase conscience that he is selling you an ar
tice for actually less than it cost him, the
minister-the religious bloker-will stretch
the truth as he becomes over-zealous, and
still these men are ali good Christians, good
citizens-good patriots. They would not lie
outside of their own profession. The high
II sole 10 ha in
which you put up with your minister brok-
ker, and, il you don't keep your margin good
he will sell you out and you can slide to the
devil.
No, doctor! stick to your medicine. Don't
think of becoming an editor. You are just
as honest as any other professional.
So 90 ahead, be patient and economical. Try
to live within your means, u y1u hare 10 DOR
rolp raoneu to do it,. Stick to your old pew in
the church-that is respectable, and don't go
changing your tailor, tor new tailor will al
ways want his money down. Get married
poor or rich. Every baby yoDr wife has
| will be money in the bank or a mortgage on
| Heaven. Treat your patience better, and
God Will send you more patients to treat.
Besides, George, are you sure that you COULD
submit 10 the duties and stand the privations
of an Editor? aH
| Is YOUR muscle good? Would an enraged
| politician frighten you out OF your boots?
| Could YOU stand two libel suits a week?
Gould YOU become an Ishmaelite outside OF
your own political party? 1fyou spoke kind
| ly of Democrat who had been your person.
| al friend, could you stand it to be called
1 mean. sneakiAg, corrupt turn-coat, by your
| sworn political brothers.? Could you smlNng-
| " sit and smoke your cigar while rival editors
are writing your political death warrant, and
| kussine YOU as too infamous to live? Are
your nostrils obtuse enough to interview a
Heathen Chinee, and your cheek brassy
enough to hob-nob with the President? Could
you stand scolding letters from old women,
and endearing entreaties flom sweet, Deautl-
fll maidens? Could you betray the secrets ol
battles, great campaigns, and Cabinet imbroS-
lios, Just to enlarge your circulation and beat
the journal across the way? Could you sink
friendship, social status, popularity-ever
thing and sit squarely down 10 II and write
an editorial full of everlasting truth, and put
under it, "these are my sentiments, and l
don't care whether school keeps or not?"
There George, stay where you are-in the
moral town OF Utica. Go on with your phys
ic. Murder confding infants. Put water i'll
two tumblers and talk very learned to hyster-
icky old women. Doctor men for dyspepsia
when Won know that whiskey is killing them.
Charge five dollars visit for pills and Con-
gress Water, but don't think OF becoming an
editor.
Don't, George, dont
Truly your friend,
ELI PERKINS.