Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1885-01-08
B0NTAYE.
CHAPTER |.

CHAPTER I.
John Hollinshcad. editor and pro.
prietor of the Snackburg Weekly De-
fcntler, was not Il distinguished look
ing man, although he seemed to ina
gine that cultivated neglect of dress,
such as showing the bow of his necktie
around under his ear or buttoning his
vest wrong, contributed Il literary air
to his general make up" Several of
his paragraphs, slightly altered from
the original, having gone the rounds"
he cherished the hope that he was be-
coming the "leading American humor-
ist.' He had Il knack of writing
miserable verses in commenting on
slatterly rhyme, clipped frcm the
sheet of a "mutual admirer," and
was such an adept punster that intel
ligent people often crossed the street
to avoid meeting him. In spite of all
this, tho Defender continued to mako a
fair living for its proprietor, more the
result, however of the county delin.
quent tax list and half page adver-
tisements of merchants who were
determined to sell below cost, than of
any other feature published by the
llimsy sheet.
Shortly after the DEFENDER had en-
tered upon the fifth year of its exist
ence, an event celebrated in the usual
way--"we have passed the sixth mile
stone on the journalistic road" for
instance-Holiinshead neglected his
business long enough to fall in love
with the handsome Miss Bontave
Glowerman, in whose pretty head
reyolved the idea that she was born
especially for the performance of somo
great newspaper feat; still, she did
not givo the editor that generous
burst of encouragement which re-
moves all doubt. The enrapturcd
man was persistent, and in the
warmth and strangeness of the new
attachment, he lost sight of six hun
dred and twenty feet Of lumber due
in payment of an advertisement in
serted by the owner of saw mill.
Miss GlOwerman was not wealthy, in
fact, her father owed for a years SUBJ
scription, yet, in the very glare of
these faults John Hollinshead, editor
and proprietor of the Weekly Defender,
would have taken the enhancing
creature in his arms and pressed her
to heart not wholly unknown to
commendable emotions.
81 should be in my editorial room
right now," said Hollinshead ono
night, while near him, before cheer
full fire, sat Bontavc, radiant in the
consciousness of her fascination.
She looked up with bewitching lit
tic air of astonishment.
"Yes," continued the editor, ~
should be there this minute. have Il
lot of humorous writing to do, and be-
sides should sit in judgment upon the
destiny of an essay written by an as
piring young lady"
The reference to an essay aroused
new interest, or rather made more
alive an old one, for throwing off the
assumed air of astonishmcnt, she be-
came natural in an eagcrncss which
arose superior to all her arts and
graccs.
Are You going to publish it?" she
asked.
"Oh, don't know yet. To deter
mine whether or not an article pos
sesses literary merit requires almost as
much thought as the writing of the ar
ticle itself. Sometimes he contn-
ued, swelling with Importance, 1--WE
editors make mistakes, in that erin
that we fail to see the merit of a pro-
duction and consequently kill it.
YES" she rcjoined, ''and some
times, when you publish an article,
the reader fails to see the merit"
Possibly, yes, possibly so. We cd
itors are not incal able of committing
error, but, taking into consideration
the responsibility which-er which
rests upon our shoulders" reaching
over and pulling back his hair like a
young lawyer trying to make pro-
found impression on justice of the
peace, 1--WE do extremely well. Just
think for n moment. We have the
making and unmaking of men. Last
week, you remember, gave the lead
ing man of the Sicklcs Dramatic COM
pany little dig, and would not be
surprised to hear that he has been dis
couraged, but my dear Miss, ah,
excuse mer' He had touched her
hand. al say, it was my duty to touch
him up, for we editors have the well
fare of the public to some extent in our
keeping"
"How Iwould like to be a recognized
writer" she said half musingly, and
seemingly to have paid no attention
to his last remark, fact which he no.
ticed, not altogether free from feel
ing of wounded pride.
"Therc is but one way, Miss Bon
tave-beg your pardon" He had
touched her hand again. "There is
only one way open to every heart
that swcls with ambition. That way
is hard work. The pen of bright fan
cy may gambol with the lghtness of a
fawn, but before this accomplishment
is attained, it must plod with The de-
liberate weighto of an elephant.
So satisfied was he with this remark
tnaJ ne arose, anu WDlle mentally eA-
amining photograph in wheat-straw
frame, he ran over tho words again,
and mentally resolved that he would
mako room for them in tho next issue
OF his paper.
"Yes, that is the only way" sitting
down again.
"But suppose" said she, THAT we
plod like an elephant, who will assist
us to gambol like the fawnP You edi-
tors speak SO nippantly of sitting in
Judgment upon the destiny of piece
Of composition that might have been
the result of weeks and weeks Of care
full study"
pardon me, Miss Bon, excuse
me-" He had touched her hand. 81
see that you may fall into an error,
and do us an injustice. 1t is not o
matter Of flippancy, l assure you. II
is with profound regret that we place
the iron heel on the literary hopes Of
ssoul that Is attempting to rise, No