The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-05-30
AN EDITORIAL scRAPE.
IEXchanRe.l

lExchange.
 Not long age, picking up an evening paper, read short paragraph about the difficulties encountered by humorist in using names for the various brain people whom he writes about, on account of the numbers of real flesh-and-blood people who will persist in believing that they are meant; owing to an accidental similarity of nomenclature.
 It brought forcibly to my mind an ex- perience of my own, when had just started upon the highway of authorship. had been asked to take temporary charge of a small country paper-well, we will call it the 7nra0veyan8ovey Ar. ggs-during the absence of friend of mine, who was rapidly gaining favor as its editor.
 assumed the charge without hesita- tion-l was just at that young and hope fui age where I would have assumed charge of, anything, from a powder-miIl to mother-in-law, so l went to work to get out my first paper My friend, l must say, possessed no humor He had about as much laugh in him as tombstone. His style was as doletui as funeral bell, and l have known him to write up case of drunk and disorderly in a style which would draw tears from an owl, and then con- placently exhibit i: as humorous article.
 Therefore, determined to give my readers real wit. would show them how bubbles of laugh and nipples of merriment flowed from my fAcile pen.
 Pardon my conceit; but l was only twenty then, parted my hair in the mid dle, and secretly ate gum drops
 So went in.
 filled the paper full of what thought were sparkling gems of wit, calculated to make horse laugh. or course, dubbed the heroes of these imaginary ludicrousi- ties the first names that came into my head, never thinking of any after conse. quences.
 Al last the paper was published.
 With few trihing excepsions-such as one page being upside down, the funeral notices placed under a standing heading, called "Let us Laugh" and a vile song entitled "O'ReiIly, Gargle yer Feet run in under |" Religious Thoughts and Sentiments "-due to my inexperi- ence as an editor, the paper looked very we'll, and, to my great delight, my funny business was all right.
 The morning after its issue sat iu the office leisurely smoking, and in the usual editorial position, heels higher than head.
 Suddenly a gentleman came in.
 He was big, burly gentleman, with shoulders like an ox, a'scarred cheek, and eyes which looked Six ways at once.
 He had cart rung, and he banged it upon the floor with vehemence which made the dust rise in clouds.
 "Oh," he said, CT ain't got you nowl Oh, no! Just turn yer head around till l knock it of Mebbe you thought was paralyzed in my legs, an couldn't walk around here, or that I'd got both of my arms shot of in the war, and had to hire folks to fight for me--but guess not"
 began to believe the man was crazy.
 "Guess you've got in the wrong place." l remarked. Lunatic asylum's next door"
 Sass me, will yer?" said he as he gripped his cart rung "not content with sassing me in yer old paper, yer want to sass me now. Oh, guess not-yer won't sass me az ,in."
 7" don't recollect ever mentioning you, my friend"
 "Yer don't2 Didn't yer put in a long piece about Pat McCabe cavorting about the depot, saying as how he was a red headed Ipjun-killer a-looking for a scalp Didn't yer say as how by and by a knock-kneed consumptive, with an arti- hcial lung, came along and knock him cross-ways2 Yer know yer did, and Pm Pat McCabe. l ain't seen the depot for a week."
 "My dear sir" said I, "sit down. Have cigar. Just ring the bell, and I'll send the devil out for some beer. This is great mistake. It was an accident l chose the name at random. No such event ever took place. Why, if your name is McCabe, I'll apologize next week put your picture in, too, if you wish"
 MT. McCabe sat down. An expression of surprise crossed his face. He accep ed my cigar and lit it.
 Say" presently he remarked, a cun- hing grin upon his face, don't apolo- gize."
 "No?'
 @No. Write it up again. Say it was all wrong las. week-say you was drunk Wn~u you wrote II, or Somcthlng else. | Jess put it that broke up the depot, | smashed eight or nine engines, killed policemen, and am walking up and down the street with gun over my shoulder, daring the town to catch me. Do that for me, and won't kick any more Will youP'
 promised would.
 Much obleeged. Yer see it will sort of give me hold with the boys," and Mir. McCabe left.
 Hardly had he gone before an irascible old gent burst in like bombshell.
 You scoundrel 1" yelled he. "You- you internal quill-driving moDkeyl How dare you, sir-how dare your"
 "Dare what? P queried I.
 @1Sav l went home from my lodge last week and tried to light the gas with my boots, and made cocktail out of shoe and paregoric. It's a lie-a slN