The state herald., 1890-04-11
THE MISSING EXCHANGE

LII MlSNlNU bAOaANGh
A rainy Saturday evening in Janu-
airy In the bustling little New England
town of Cornwall, where /, one of the
innumerable class known as country
editors, ain eking out 4 fair iiveli-
hood.
Passing hurriedly along the muddy
streets, greeted by eight out Of nine of
the shlvcring aud wet pedestrians who
are fastening to more or less cheerful
home Il. cs, for the rural pencil pusher
is known by Tom aud Dick as we'll as
by Harry, soon have the satisfaction
Of hearing my own gate slam behind
me, and through the half.drawn cur
tains of tho window catch CLEAN of
the cracking fire in the old-fashioned
Franklin stove, taken AZ an equivalent
for seven years subscription to tho
Gazette from hard-up and delinquent
subscriber.
A moment more, overcoat off and
slippers on, rush for the table, and
after hearty supper, sit by tho fire
and discuss with my little dark haired
wife, matters journalistic and typogra-
phic, for the true wife of country
newspaper man is well posted on topics
of the craft rs Is the head of the house.
As my companion looks through the
pills of exchanges that have thrown
OH the table, she asks, "Whero is the
Newbury Journal?' and to her inquiry
make The answer that lido for several
weeks 70 lowing:
at hrs not come since Christmas
week"
The cause of our special interest in
this pa ticular paper lay in our ac-
quaintancc with Mark Arnold. its pub
Usher, a genial and jolly old man, and
one who always greeted us with
friendly shake of the hand and kind
word whenever we met, aud we there
fore had come to have a special liking
for this veteran in the harness.
Christmas Eve, 1888. The time of
year when the world sits down and
thinks Of nothing but joy and good
will. But there are here and there
those who In their thoughts at this
gladtide timo of the year find deep
vein of sorrow running through their
usual holiday gladness, which a twelve
month ago they had not dreamed of.
Aud tonight Mark Arnold, the old
gray-haircd editor, finds himself with
the latter class.
As he sits at the worn flat top desk
on which he has written so many
words of local import and record in the
half century he has occupied that old
fashioned armchair, forming the only
history Of tho doings Of Ncwbury that
New Hampshire town will ever have,
hc places his head In his hands and
leaning on the desk, his long white
beard resting on tho paper before him,
hc silently thinks Of the events of the
passing year, and wonders why lie Is 70
sad. On the street below he hears the
brisk clatter Of feet on tho pavement,
In the store under his Office he hears
the slam and inccssant squeak of the
unoilcd door, sure indication that the
merchant is diminishing his stock OF
Christmas goodies, and yet he feels In
his thoughts as widely separated from
the happy throng, ms though he had
never seen or heard Of them or their
Christmas festivities.
Raising his head and glancing
around the Office dimly III by the lone
ilickcring jet Of gns above him, the
stiffness of the room grows weird In
Its silence, aud he gazes at the old
cylindcr press In the corner, It's huge
shadow darkcning the already indis-
tinct outline of the dingy walls
covered with posters and Autographs
placed there by the ''levil" u. stolen
periods when the .boss' was absent,
unconsciously forming chronology of
the amuscmcnts OF the locality: then
glances at the racks with their loads of
cases filled with types that have chron-
iclcd events of more Importance In the
eyes of his rural patrons than tho
downfall of nations or the founding
of empires, and that in their varied
arrangements from week to week,
month TO month, and year to year,
have helped To create and deposc
national as well MS local.
IA he drcamily looks ut the shadow
covered scene before him, he half ex-
poets 10 sec arise at the eases the forms
of those who have occupied them In
past years, some Of whom have gradu-
atcd into places of influence aud honor,
while Others have quietly slipped away
from the notice Of the world and passed
into another sphere where they arc
now pufsling angelic or demoniac
pursuits.
l,ut gradually and impcrccp,ibly his
mind travels back 10 the day, so long
ngo, when will, his young wife, he
proudly entered the little village US the
Of iis first newspaper; how
the sense of hi, noble mission filled his
breast, with what pride hc inspected
tho first sheet of the initial issue with
It's announcement OF the purpose To Ill
''n long felt want" Of his half century
of close application to his chosen cali
Ing: now nj tie ease, at the press, Mt
local happenings OF interest. ut town
church fairs, cattle shows:
now editor, reporter, book-kccpcr, In
fac, n manv-sldcd man IN his daily toll,
not pursuing these varied duties In
eases of ,mcrgcncy, but day after day,
and year after year. and ON this
Christmas Eve he looks back ON his
iifiy years of toll with feeling Of |
discomfort.
True, he has record which many
n man Of more prctcnslons might look
nj with pride, of work done In behalf