Weekly Trinity journal., 1872-04-13
NUMBER Is.
FLOGGING AN EDITOR,

Some years ago populous town To-
Gated in the interior of Mississippi, was
infested by gang of blacklegs, who
amused themselves at times, when they
could find nothing else to pluck, by prey
ing upon each other. A new Imports
tion of these sporting gentry excited some
alarm among the inhabitants, lest they
should be overrun. They determined,
therefore, upon their expulsion. A poor
country editor, who was expected, by
virtue of his vocation, to take upon him
self all the responsibility from which
Others might choose to shrink, WAS per-
emptorialy called upon 10y his patrons
those who paid him two dollars year
for his paper, and therefore presumed
that they owned him, body and SOUL
to make an effort towards exterminating
the enemy. The unfortunate editor, like
most editors, being gifted with about as
much brains rs money-skull and purse
both empty-said at once that he won Il
indite n "crusher one that would
drive the obnoxious vermin into some
hospitable region. And when his paper
appeared, it was crusher sure enough.
In the course of his observations he gave
the initials of some of the fraternity,
whom he advised to leave as speedily rs
possible, it they had the slightest desire
to save their bacon. The next morning,
while the scribe was comfortably seated
in his Office, listlessly tumbling overa
meager parcel of exchanges, he heard
footsteps on the stairs, and soon an mdi-
vidual, having accomplished the ascent,
made his appearance. His first saluta-
tion was slightly abrupt:
Where's the editor of this dirty, ly-
ing paperH"
Now, aside from the rudcness of his
interrogatory, there were other consider
ations that induced the editor to believe
there was trouble on foot. The person
age who addressed him bore II cowhide
in his hand, and moreover, seemed to DO
exceedingly enraged. This was not all
he recognized in him distinguished
leader of the sporting fraternity, with
whose cognomen he had taken very ir-
reverent liberties. 1t was without the
slightest hesitation, therefore, that he re-
piled 10 the Introductory query:
" | don't know"
"Do you belong to the concern?"
"No, indeed, but presume the editor
will socn be in"
"Well," said the visitor, Il will wait
for him." and suiting the action to the
word, he composedly took chair, picked
up II paper and commenced reading.
"lt meet him." said the frightened
knight Of the scissors, 81 will tell him
there is II gentleman who wishes to see
| him."
As he reached the foot of the stairs in
his hasty retreat, he was accosted by an
other man who made himself known:
Can you tell me where can find the
sneaking rascal who has charge Of this
vllainous sheet?" producing the last
number of Freedom's Echo and battle
Are Of Liberty.
"Yes," replied the editor, "he is up
there in his office now, reading, with his
back to the door"
"Thank you," said the stranger, as he
bounced up stairs.
"I've got you, have !" he calculated,
as he made grasp at his brother in ini-
quity; and they came crashing to the floor
together.
As the combatants, notwithstanding
the similarity of their vocation, happened
TO be unacquainted with each other,
very pretty fight en.ucd. First, one was
at the top, and then the other blow fol-
lowed blow, kick followed kick, oath
followed ont, until bruised, exhausted,
and bloody, with faces and features re-
sembing Deaf Burke after two hours
pugilistlc encounter, there was, by mutual
consent, n cessation Of ho,tlities. As the
combatants sat on the floor contemplate
ing each other, the first conner fonnd
breath enough to ask
"Who are your What did you at
tack me tori"
You abused me in your paper, you
scoundrel"
Me I'm not the editor l came
here to fog him myself"
Mutual explanations and apologies en-
sued, and the two mistaken gentlemen
retired to bind up their wounds. As the
story comes 10 us, the distinguished in
dvidual, whose vocation it was to en-
tighten the world by the aid of that great
engine, the public press, escaped scot free.